Genderbending: Decepticon Style
by AnonFirefly
Summary: Wheeljack invented a new weapon. Apparently it was supposed to be a powerful fusion blaster, but when it hits Megatron, his second, and his third, something goes horribly wrong. What’s a femme to do?
1. Normalcy at its Worst

**Author's notes:** Hello! This is my first story up here, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Flames will be read and ignored. Be nice people and enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Okay, honestly I don't think a disclaimer is necessary for a _fanfiction_ site, but here it is: Transformers and all related stuff belong to Hasbro. I claim nothing.

There. Happy?

Genderbending: Decepticon-Style

"Decepticons, attack!"

The battle raged on between the Autobots and Decepticons. Neither was giving ground, but that didn't mean anything. It was as normal as it got for them.

Soundwave was overseeing the shipping a large pile of energon cubes back to the Decepticon-flagship-turned-submarine-base, the Nemesis; Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker were all busy trying to fend off the infamous duo of Jet Judoists, who had somehow managed to convince Ironhide that it was a good idea; everyone else was busy with their own little Decepticon/Autobot problem; and Megatron and Optimus were locked in a hand-to-hand fight a little ways away.

All in all, a normal fight, right?

Prowl's surveyed the battlefield, taking shelter behind a rock with Jazz. Both had been pushed back by the Coneheads and Soundwave's cassettes. The Coneheads had flown off to help Soundwave with the energon cubes and the cassettes were keeping them pinned down. Both commanders were more than a little peeved about how Soundwave's cassettes were able to keep them pinned.

The cassettes were a third their size, for Primus's sake!!

But then again, they were nimble little buggers who had a passion for destruction and a hatred of Autobots, as all Decepticons do, so it made up for a lot.

Jazz was holding them off with his blaster and his collection of Earth Rock music. Jazz broadcasted it on a frequency that most mechs couldn't hear, but the cassettes could hear it clearly. Needless to say, Jazz had the volume all the way up.

Be grateful humans can't hear frequencies that high, though the local bats were screeching in agony.

Prowl surveyed the battlefield while Jazz proved cover. From all the energy blasts, the sounds of the seekers' and Coneheads' engines, and the loud cursing and bets being set by the Autobots, Prowl estimated that their chances of success (and his winning of the latest pool) was approximately 72.148%. The other 27.852% chance of failure was to account for the energon cubes lost to the Decepticons.

Prowl ran it again, and again, and again, taking in everything and trying to put a strategy together. It stayed relatively constant, no matter how many times he ran it. The Autobots would win the battle, but the accumulated loss of the energon cubes and their wounded men would not have the number where Prowl wanted them to be.

And he would lose the pool.

Smokescreen was never going to leave him alone after this.

He activated his comm. link as Jazz fired on Ravage and he ducked several blasts on reflex. _:Wheeljack!:_ He shouted over the line. :_Where is that new weapon you developed!?:_

_:I just have one more thing to tweak…:_ Wheeljack said tiredly. He had been working on his latest project for the better part of the human month. Everyone had avoided his office like the plague, but there had been no explosions or mishaps to be had, for which Wheeljack (and everyone else) was eternally grateful.

Prowl heard Wheeljack grunt over the line as he tightened something on his weapon.

_:IT'S DONE!:_ Wheeljack called over the line as Prowl ducked again._ :It's ready whenever you are!:_ The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

Prowl let out a sigh of relief. _:Good. Wheeljack, we'll need that weapon soon.: _He relayed. A large, misfired shot from a seeker nearly took his doorwings off and Prowl quickly saw the situation get out of hand. :_On second thought, get out here, now!_: Prowl shot at the seekers overhead with his acid pellet rifle._ :We need the back up!:_

_:Understood! Wheeljack, out!:_ Wheeljack said, and cut the line.

Prowl turned back to the battle and saw the twins and Ironhide being thrown from Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker's backs and hit the ground rolling. The three seekers transformed and hovered in midair over the downed Autobots. They took cluster bombs out of subspace pockets and flew into bombing formation.

Then Thundercracker and Skywarp's heads snapped up, a blank look coming across their features. Prowl recognized the tell-tale signs of a comm. link conversation.

He was right, of course.

Thundercracker and Skywarp spoke briefly with Starscream, putting away their cluster bombs, and flew toward Soundwave, leaving Starscream alone to deal with the twins and Ironhide.

A blast near Prowl's head returned his attention to his opponents –Soundwave's cassettes– and he fired his acid-pellet rifle in retaliation. _Primus,_ Prowl prayed. _Hurry it up Wheeljack!_

---

Starscream, now alone because a certain communications officer needed more arms, commenced a bombing run on the Autobot twins and Ironhide. Ironhide kicked the twins out of the way and jumped back himself to avoid the blasts of the bombs.

Sideswipe picked himself off the ground, cursing lightly, and turned to his unconscious twin. Sideswipe, obviously not going into panic-mode because of Ironhide's yelling at him to get going, half carried and half dragged his unconscious twin toward some large boulders that would offer some form of cover.

Ironhide, meanwhile, pulled out his blaster and started firing at the seeker. A lot of the shots missed, but a quick data burst to Mirage and Bluestreak for cover fire for the Twins had Starscream on the ropes. He barely missed the shots from the gunner and the two sharpshooters.

The Autobot snipers were good!

Ironhide took careful and got a lucky shot. He hit Starscream in his left wing-joint as the seeker barrel-rolled to avoid shots from Bluestreak and Mirage.

Starscream screeched in pain, the pitch and volume making Ironhide wince slightly. Starscream's turbines gave out and the seeker fell to terra firma with a loud _CRASH_!! Optimus and Megatron didn't even notice the seeker go down, not even when said seeker crashed not too far from them.

The seeker was down for the count and Ironhide walked off satisfied. He hefted his gun and glared at the other Decepticons. He's eyes said loudly _WHO'S NEXT?!_

---

Prowl saw the Twins head to Ratchet for temporary repairs and Ironhide walk off as though he never attempted Jet Judo before. Why did he know that Ironhide would survive? Overall, the battle had increased in intensity. He frowned. This was getting out of hand. He opened his comm. again.

_:Wheeljack!!:_ He shouted over the comm._ :Where's that fusion blaster of yours!?: _

No one answered.

_:Wheeljack!?:_ Prowl called, worried for his comrade.

He heard the distinct sound of a large cannon powering up above his head. He looked up and saw Wheeljack with what looked like a bazooka on his shoulder. The bazooka-looking-gun-thing was a bright orange and several meters long. Somewhere in the back of Prowl's processor, a little voice whispered in an exasperated voice.

_Please tell me those aren't the Ark's floor tiles…_

"Primus 'Jack!" Jazz exclaimed, jumping on Prowl's back. "Where in the pit did you get that?!" He paused. "Are those the Ark's floor tiles?"

Prowl pushed Jazz of off him with a quiet, "Do you want to do all the paperwork for the next week or are you going to get off?" Wheeljack smiled when Jazz quickly got off the second-in-command.

"Trade secret!" He said to answer Jazz's question. He turned to Prowl "She's right here and ready to go!" Wheeljack said, a little proudly, patting the bazooka-looking gun fondly.

A shot near his head brought his attention to the cassettes, all of whom had regrouped and retaliated. Wheeljack pulled a net from a subspace pocket and threw it at the cassettes. Said cassettes sidestepped the net easily, laughing at crude Autobot tech, but the net crackled with electricity and the cassettes froze as they were magnetically pulled into the net. The net then snapped shut, clamps at the top holding tight. The cassettes, however, swore at the top of their voices and immediately began to attack the net with teeth, claws, blasters, and jackhammers.

Nothing worked.

Jazz hopped up onto Wheeljack's crag and stood by him, patting him on the shoulder. "I swear 'Jack!" Jazz said as he looked at the trapped cassettes with a large grin. "You have GOT to get me one of those things! Do you have any idea how handy something like that is!?"

Wheeljack's optics smiled. "Of course, I know how handy my stuff is!" He said proudly. "They just have a horrible tendency to blow-!"

They were silenced by a large explosion from below them as the net holding the cassettes blew up. The cassettes were thrown in different directions and landed hard on the ground. None of them got up again.

"Up?" Wheeljack finished, surprised that his electromagnetic net had exploded. They stared for a while as the cassettes refused to move under their scrutiny. Jazz had his mouth open and Prowl stared too.

"Well," Jazz said after a while, turning to face Wheeljack with a devious grin. "Can I still have one?"

---

Soundwave doubled over in pain, falling onto one knees, intake cycles hitching and clutching his chest. His mind and spark were assaulted by the same feeling of pain and cry for help from six different links _at. The. Same. Time_.

"Soundwave, what the Pit-?" Thrust began as the communications officer went down. Soundwave got to his feet and pushed past the Conehead with a quick, monotone, "I am fine. Bring all the energon to the Nemesis," and ran toward the last location he had sensed from his cassettes before they went offline.

He always kept his link with his cassettes open to keep track of them, meaning he also felt any pain they felt. He had felt each one of them hurt before and would usually go after whoever had hurt them, Decepticon or Autobot. But, _never_ had he felt this amount of searing pain from one of his cassettes, let alone all six! He even felt all of them fall unconscious, which in itself was unusual.

They were all scattered around, but they had been together when they had felt the blast of whatever had hit them. He ran quickly toward his precious creations and, for once, he didn't care about anything else other than the safety of his beloved cassettes.

---

Prowl hopped up onto Wheeljack and Jazz's outcropping. He pointed to the bazooka-thing and said, "Will this thing work?" He asked, getting straight to the point.

Wheeljack smiled through his facemask, noting how cautious the tactician was being, and nodded. Jazz put a hand on Wheeljack's shoulder and smiled at Prowl's lack of faith. "What do you think the odds are of this thing working, Prowl?" he rapped the bazooka-gun-thing with this knuckles. Wheeljack quickly shooed Jazz's hands from the gun before something went wrong.

Prowl crossed his arms and answered curtly, "It has a seventy percent chance–"

Jazz leaned over Wheeljack, slapped a hand over Prowl's mouth, and waved a finger in his face. "The question was rhetorical and 'never tell me the odds!'" He said loudly. Prowl had the faintest inclining that he had heard some human actor say that, but shrugged it off.

"Yup!" Wheeljack said proudly. "And if it does work like it's supposed to we'll be several Decepticons short of an opposing army when it's done."

Prowl looked over the battlefield and chose his targets carefully. If they shot at the Decepticons with the energon cubes, it would sort of defeat the purpose of getting the energy back. There was also the chance they could miss the retreating targets and hit something else. They couldn't risk hitting one of their fellow Autobots and the seekers were moving too quickly to aim at correctly.

That left one choice.

A dubious one but, if it worked, the war might finally end.

"Wheeljack," Prowl ordered in a commanding tone. "Be ready to fire on Megatron when I say to. If we're going to take someone out, it might as well be the top of the chain-of-Decepticon command."

Wheeljack looked doubtful at Prowl's words. But, in light of the fact that Prowl pretty much knew every scenario know to Transformer kind, he hefted the bazooka, took aim, and said, "Roger."

Unfortunately, neither of them noticed Soundwave running toward Optimus and Megatron; said Communications officer not noticing the world; Starscream waking up, pulling himself to his feet, and staggering toward the Optimus and Megatron in a drunken daze, a large dent in the side of his helm evidence of his crash; Ramjet losing his grip on one small energon cube; or that Jazz had barricaded himself behind a boulder so as not to get blown up.

---

_Duck, left hook, upper cut– WATCH HIS RIGHT!– dodge left, kick right…_ Megatron dodged Optimus's kick and made to grab Optimus's throat. Optimus saw it coming and pulled back, so Megatron grabbed at air.

That's how it went every single time. In their fights, the whole universe narrowed down to the two of them and the space between them. An illusion brought on by the severity of their fights; a dance they both knew and never messed up. It happened every time they saw each other on the battlefield.

Optimus was about to take the next step in his deadly dance, when his comm. link opened. Suddenly, the universe was much bigger and Optimus nearly missed his cue as Megatron made to attack. To recover from the loss of coordination, Optimus had to pull some rather fancy footwork to avoid his opponent's fusion blaster from taking out his head.

_:Prime!:_ Prowl's voice rang out through the comm._ :You need to get out of there! Wheeljack as a new weapon trained on Megatron and you're in the blast radius!:_ Optimus almost didn't catch his second's message. The dance was being interrupted, and Megatron was merciless. The Decepticon leader threw another punch at Optimus, but he managed to block it in time and retaliate.

_:I'm a little busy, Prowl!:_ He answered over the comm. He heard Prowl about to protest, but said quickly _:But, I'll move as soon as I can!:_ and shut the line akin to slamming a door in someone's face. Prowl would understand though. He did just interrupt Optimus when the Prime needed his attention elsewhere.

You understood when you were in a life and death situation, after all.

Optimus quickly formulated a plan to get himself away from Megatron, without breaking the unconscious illusion. He kept dodging Megatron's attacks and saw and opening as Megatron left his chest unguarded. A quick, powerful punch to the middle of Megatron's chest pushed the tyrant back far enough. Optimus quickly took advantage of the moment and ran for it.

He had no desire to become scrap along with Megatron.

"COWARD!" The Decepticon leader shouted. "GET BACK HERE!" He chased after Optimus, determined to get his hands on the Prime. As he drew nearer to Optimus, Megatron lunged for him and tackled a mech to the ground.

Granted it was not the intended mech.

They tumbled together and landed in a heap. Starscream and Megatron became tangled in each other as they tried to pull apart, but it only tangled them even further, Starscream's wings and the general lack of coordination on both sides made things difficult.

"STARSCREAM, YOU ABSOLUTE FRAGGING, SLAGGING, SON OF A MALFUNCTIONING MOTHERBOARD!!!" Megatron yelled at the top of his vocal processor. "WHAT THE FRAGGING PIT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!"

Starscream was too dazed to answer and just made things worse. Megatron pushed futilely against him, trying to get the seeker off of him.

Optimus, meanwhile, used this wonderful, Primus-sent distraction and hightailed it out of there, away from the two highest ranked Decepticons. He noticed Soundwave running towards him and readied himself for an attack. Soundwave didn't even turn or show any indication that he had noticed Optimus was running in the opposite direction. Soundwave just ran past him towards his superiors. Optimus couldn't tell, but he had the impression that Soundwave hadn't even noticed him, so intent on something. Probably his superiors or something else.

Optimus just turned back and kept going to his intended target: Ratchet's field hospital a good two hundred meters from Megatron. Hopefully that was out of the blast radius too.

---

"Wheeljack! Prime's out of the blast radius!" Prowl yelled and he sent a data-burst to all Autobots to take cover because of a new Wheeljack-unpatented weapon still in its developmental stages and gave a quick summary if it's (theoretical) effects.

However, as soon as the Autobots received the words "Wheeljack" and "weapon" they didn't need the rest of the message. They all hightailed it out of the battlefield, leaving their Decepticon opponents staring at their retreating backs.

The sudden rush of the Aerialbots in retreat made Ramjet finally lose balance of his large stack of energon cubes and one lone cube fell from his hands right over where Megatron and Starscream lay.

"FIRE!"

---

"STARSCREAM, GET OFF!" Megatron yelled and struggled to get the dead weight seeker off of him. Starscream made no indication that he heard the commander's order. Megatron looked up at the sound of running feet and cried out as Soundwave crashed into them.

More like _tripped_ over them.

Megatron's head fell back on the ground as Soundwave became tangled in Starscream's wings. They all struggled together, trying to untangle themselves, and Megatron knew they must look ridiculous to anyone watching.

Heads were going to roll for this one.

Preferably a certain seeker's head.

"FIRE!"

Megatron looked up at the shouted command and saw the Autobot's accursed engineer with a weapon trained on him. Now Megatron understood why Optimus had departed so quickly. Out of the corner of his optic, he saw all of the Decepticons alone on the battlefield, the Autobots mysteriously gone.

Damn! It was a trap!!

The engineer fired and a large, blue, fusion blast was headed straight for them.

"Decepticons, retreat!" He yelled and tried to get Soundwave and Starscream off of him, but to no avail.

Starscream, at the sound of the most familiar command ever given in the Decepticon ranks, regained some coherency. The seeker looked around, saw the blast coming, and yelled in surprise and panic. Soundwave saw his creations wake up, but knew they were damaged and couldn't move. The cassettes saw their creator in the path of the blast and called out for him to move.

Starscream's struggling coupled with Megatron's and Soundwave's frantic attempts to get to his cassettes made it impossible for any of them to detangle themselves.

They weren't going to make it.

As Megatron quickly tried to formulate a plan, he felt something hit his head with a reasonably amount of force and bounce onto Starscream's back. An energon cube of standard size sat innocently in front of him. Megatron stared at the little cube, a sense of dread filling his being.

Next thing he knew, he, his second, and his third were enveloped in a white light followed by a loud, powerful, and painful explosion.

---

A large dust cloud covered the entire expanse of the desert, obscuring anything within it. The Autobots walked out of their hiding places, looking at the damage Wheeljack's weapon caused. Several of them had taken refuge behind boulders, in gorges, and one even managed to squeeze behind a hoodoo. Optimus walked out of the impromptu bunker that was Ratchet's field hospital. There were scorch marks in the ground and several bushes were on fire, but the Autobots were intact, if not a little shell-shocked.

Wheeljack, Jazz, and Prowl were protected by the boulders situated on the outcropping where they stood. All three looked out over the dust covered landscape, where Megatron and his highest officers had disappeared. Nothing was moving. Prowl adjusted his optics slightly and saw the hazy outlines of three bodies lying where they had launched the fusion blast.

"Did we get 'em?" Jazz asked, both out loud and over the comm. links. No one moved. No one had the courage to answer. There was silence over everything.

"Prowl?" Jazz asked dubiously. Prowl looked over the expanse again, configuring his optics as he did so, and saw something that made his energon lines run cold.

One of the bodies _sat up._

:ONE IS STILL MOVING!: Prowl yelled over the comm. links.

The Autobots' collective jaws dropped. Megatron, Starscream, or Soundwave were still moving even after that large of a blast? There was something very wrong there. Several credits changed hands as another pool was settled.

Optimus started walking toward the figure, pulling his gun from its subspace pocket. He wasn't taking any chances. There was no way the three of them could have survived that blast and if they did, they should have been seriously injured. He saw the conscious figure inspecting itself through the dust and smoke. Optimus could see a pair of wings on its back.

It was Starscream.

:_Prowl, the one awake is Starscream.:_ Optimus sent over the comm. link._ :Have the brig ready for him, Soundwave, and Megatron.:_ Prowl's answer was cut short by a loud shriek of surprise and horror from Starscream.

Optimus instinctively covered his audios, but could still hear what Starscream was saying. He also thought that Starscream's voice sounded too high-pitched (even for him) and not scratchy enough. A light wind blew the smoke and dust away from Starscream's figure.

All of the Autobots stared at what they saw.

"WHAT IN THE PIT DID YOU DO TO ME!?!!"

---

**AN:** Well, there you are! First chapter! Please tell me what you think. You know you want to press the little button below this sentence.


	2. Femmes and Perverts Do Not Mix

**AN:** Oh, wow! Thank you all so much for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! I feel loved…! :D I will admit I had high hopes for this story, and I'm glad you all like it! We finally learn what happens to our three favorite Decepticon commanders!! Enjoy!!

**Remember**: Reviews are loved (the longer, the better), flames will be read, ignored, and given to Inferno and Red Alert to play with, and constructive criticism is craved like a choco-holic craves chocolate. I love feedback.

And just because I feel the need to put this in here:

**Warnings:** Sexual innuendos, molestation, Cybertronian language, and general Decepticon pain-in-the-aft-ness. I put this under T for a reason!

---

Chapter 2

A very pretty femme seeker sat where Starscream had been. Said femme seeker had the same color scheme as the Decepticon Air Commander, blue arms and hands, red torso, and touches of red on her wings and blue on her feet. She had a very generous bust, a slim waist, a very nice, small, round aft (as some of the mechs were quick to notice) and her wings were slightly thinner and smaller, though held in a near vertical position showing how agitated she was.

The femme looked herself over, touching places most mechs would blush at, with hesitant ghosting hands. Several Autobots turned away respectfully.

Others started.

Lots of them stared.

Her optics widened in horror as reality sank in. She screamed and grabbed her head in panic.

"WHAT DID YOU FRAGGING AUTOBOTS DO TO ME!?!" She screeched. Several mechs covered their audios at her scream. Not that it was unpleasant, though.

Her voice wasn't as audio-grating as the Decepticon Air Commander's. It sounded much more like wind blowing through hanging chimes. Although, admittedly, those chimes were in a high wind and poorly tuned at the moment.

Optimus stared at the femme. There was no way that she was the Decepticon Air Commander! It defied all logic and several levels of the illogical!! But they needed confirmation. "St-Starscream?" Optimus asked in astonishment.

The femme continued to look herself over before the words registered. She snapped her head up to look at Optimus, optics wide with fear, panic, and hatred. It was hard to tell which emotion took the forefront.

The femme tensed, and eased her legs under her so she was on all fours. Not in a bowed position, though. That would be interpreted as a sign of submission and she sure as the pit wasn't submitting. She glared at him, her bright red otpics complementing her color scheme and dark helmet, and flashed her fangs at the Autobot Commander with an obvious look of contempt.

"OF COURSE, I'M STARSCREAM!" She yelled. "WHO DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU!?!"

Starscream continued to yell obscenities at the Autobots and eased into a defensive position, (left leg out farther than the right, and her weight supported by her fingers only). That position made for an easier launch, though she knew the Autobots would fire on her the moment she gunned her engines. But that didn't mean that she would just stay there and wait for the Autobots to take her. She was determined not be caged with a bunch of ground-crawlers, in an underground ship, with no easy access to the sky. She would not go quietly.

The air was tense with anticipation. Who would make the first move? Starscream, jumping into the sky, or the Autobots, arresting the opposing faction's second-in-command? It was a tense few seconds.

A groan alerted the Autobots and Starscream, the femme, to another guest and it broke the tension quite nicely.

A little ways away, obscured by a fine haze of dust, a thin sliver, red, and black femme sat up. She groaned in pain and rubbed her head with her right hand. Situated on her arm was unmistakably Megatron's fusion cannon.

Everyone, including Starscream, stared.

Bets were placed immediately, but Optimus got down to business, content with the knowledge that Prowl make sure that his bet was placed in the right pool.

With a quick word to his men to keep Starscream in their sights, Optimus walked over to the still recovering femme and pulled a pair of stasis cuffs from a subspace pocket. It never hurt to be cautious.

---

"Augh…" Megatron groaned. "What in the fragging pits happened…?" The last thing he remembered was that stupid seeker and Soundwave falling onto him and then getting hit with that accursed engineer's the fusion blast. A headache was making it difficult to concentrate on his surroundings. Under the confusion, a clear though ran through his mind.

_Why does my head feel different?_

True it was a small thought, but it was the beginnings of coherency, and Megatron latched onto it like a man at sea. Megatron used the thought as a means to his surroundings, taking in information where he could. His head was different, he had been caught in an explosion and was knocked unconscious, and everything was relatively quiet.

However, before Megatron could elaborate on the thought further, a large hand encompassed his forearm and a stasis cuff snapped onto his wrist. He jerked his head up in surprise to see the annoyingly bright, blue optics of Optimus Prime.

"YOU!" He screeched, pulling against his bonds.

Wait one fragging minute!!!

He _screeched?_

His voice sounded higher, more feminine. He could distinctly remember being Optimus's height, and he knew that Optimus's hands shouldn't have been able to cover his entire wrist. Something was wrong here. Maybe he was more damaged than he thought. A quick diagnostics check revealed that he was the human equivalent of shell-shocked, but other than that, completely unharmed.

Megatron dismissed it as a glitch in the programming.

Optimus looked down at him with a calm, steady gaze. Megatron narrowed his eyes at the Prime and flashed his fangs in warning. However, the Prime's next words made him freeze.

"Megatron, I presume?"

Megatron's jaw dropped in insulted astonishment.

What the heck _happened_ while he was unconscious to make the Prime think that Megatron was someone else!?!

If Optimus was kidding (and Megatron fervently hoped he was), he was very bad with jokes. However, since Optimus's optics were serious, Megatron felt insulted at Optimus's actions. Not to mention that Prime's calm tone annoyed the slag out of him!

"OF COURSE I'M MEGATRON, YOU IDIOT!!" He screeched, his voice sounding too high for his liking. "DID YOU HIT YOUR HEAD OR HAS MY PAINTJOB CHANGED AND NOW YOU CAN'T REGONIZE ME AS YOUR ENEMY OR SOMETHING!?!"

He grabbed Prime's arm with his wrist and tried to pull away, but Prime grabbed it and snapped the other stasis cuff on expertly. With the circuit complete, the stasis cuffs activated their neural inhibitors and Megatron instantly felt his strength leave. All of his weapons went offline and offensive battle protocols and subroutines were shut down. He suddenly felt very vulnerable.

And he didn't like it one bit.

"You haven't looked at yourself lately, have you?" Prime said, again with the annoyingly calm voice. Megatron bristled in annoyance. Doesn't he ever raise his voice or at least show some anger or hatred toward his mortal enemy? At least Prime had the brains to subdue his enemy, so maybe he wasn't as stupid as originally thought. Though Megatron was feeling insulted.

"OF COURSE NOT!!" He screeched (that high-pitched voice was really starting to annoy him) and asked sarcastically, "I DON'T HAVE A GAPPING HOLE WHERE MY SPARK USED TO BE, DO I!?!"

"No," Prime said, still in that calm, collected voice, "but you should really take a look at your second-in-command and yourself."

Primus, why does the Prime have to keep using that maddeningly calm voice all the time!? Megatron glared at him. This had to be a trap, just like the trap that had caused his unofficial capture. But then again, Starscream and Soundwave had been with him in the explosion, so seeing the seeker's mangled shell would make him feel better.

Megatron followed Optimus with his optics as the Prime moved behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Megatron nearly flinched in disgust when Prime's blue hands touched him. _Fragging Autobots… have they never heard of personal space?_ Megatron paused as the ridiculous thought floated through his mind, but he had to agree with it. Prime was too close for his liking. He glowered up at Prime before growling in annoyance and turning his attention to the congregation of Autobots and his stupid Second-in-Command.

A violent retort was on the tip of his tongue, but it died almost immediately as he stared, mouth hanging open slightly, at the sight before him.

Crouching on the ground in his second-in-command's colors, sat a rather pretty femme seeker. She looked exactly like his second-in-command, only smaller and thinner than before, her wings nearly vertical on her back. Her optics continually shifted from one Autobot to the next, looking for openings and weak points. He took note that the femme was very beautiful, with a generous bust and a slim form. Megatron saw some of the Autobot fliers ogling Starscream's new streamline figure, _especially_ her aft and her bust.

And Megatron understood why.

She was beautiful and Megatron was sure that most of the Autobots hadn't seen a femme in a ridiculously long amount of time. Even the Decepticons had been missing out on the action, the few Decepticon femmes totally in approachable. But for some reason, he didn't feel physically or emotionally attracted to to the femme. He'd normally jump a femme like that– frag what she thought!– but now…

Not so much.

"St-Starscream?" He asked hoarsely. The femme looked up at the name and stared at him in return, her optics widening the longer she looked at him. Whatever doubts he had about the femme's identity were thrown out the window.

The femme _was_ his second-in-command!

Just what in the pit _happened_ while he was unconscious?!

"Megatron?" The femme, now confirmed as Starscream, asked in astonishment. He noticed that Starscream's voice much softer and it didn't have that scratchy undertone anymore.

Megatron unconsciously nodded his head in acknowledgement. Starscream's mouth dropped and her horror and amazement were displayed clearly for all to see.

How in the world had Starscream become a femme!?! It defied all logic and most of the illogical!! He just stared and a sense of dread filled him.

Just what was that weapon of the Autobot engineer's!?!?!

"Now, look at yourself." Optimus commanded from behind. Megatron feared what he happened to him if Starscream was roving his– now _her_– optics over Megatron's frame. Megatron quickly looked down at himself.

Wait, scratch that, _herself,_ and screamed.

She had a bust that was slightly smaller than Starscream's, a slim waist, and an even better looking aft than Starscream's. She had still retained her original color scheme of before only her pelvic region, the front part of her shins, her feet, and her forearms and hands were now jet black, with red plating over the back of her shins, her stomach, and halfway down her upper-arm to her elbow, instead of her uniform gun-metal grey. She could feel the stares of the Autobots as they looked at hi– uh, _her_. She also noticed that some of the Autobots' stares were directed at her head and she remembered that her head had felt different earlier.

But why would it? There was nothing wrong with it before.

She raised her stasis cuffed hands and ran them over the top of her head. Prime made no move to stop her. As she touched the sides and tops of her head and felt the grove marks, she realized why it was different.

Her helmet was missing.

With this realization came the feeling of what would have been identified by anyone else as fear or shock, though her face didn't show it. The decorative antennae panels, that had been hidden from the world for so long, sprang up in response to Megatron's internal emotions. Nearly everyone, save two mechs and Starscream, jumped in surprise and even Optimus flinched back a little.

There were four: two on either side of her head near her audios and two on the top of her head over her eyes. Each one was jet black with gold markings that twisted and turned across the black base plating. They were each three panels long and gleamed brightly in the sun. The panels on her head folded back, nearly lying flat.

She turned to Prime. "Where is my helmet?" She asked quietly. Her optics narrowed and they promised murder if Optimus didn't tell her what she needed to know. Optimus nodded to his men and they looked around, too dazed to even care that the order had indirectly come from their worst enemy.

"Here it is!" Someone called from the back. He waved Megatron's helmet in the air over the crowd and threw the helmet to Optimus, who caught it easily.

"Give it here!" Megatron demanded, her cuffed palms facing upward. Prime placed it in her hands and Megatron snapped it away from him. She looked over it quickly to make sure there were no dents, and, finding none, put it on. There was a small _click_ as the helment locked into place and she shook her head to make sure it wouldn't come off. "That's better." She whispered contentedly to herself. "Now," she glared up at the Prime. "WHAT IN THE PIT DID YOU DO TO US!?!" She yelled in anger.

Optimus staggered slightly at the sheer volume of Megatron's demand. Apparently, she could be as vocal as her second-in-command when she wanted to. Optimus quickly regained his balance and composure.

"We're not sure what happened to you." He said calmly, keeping everything under control so that nothing too extreme would happen. He took the human philosophical law, somehow discovered by a man named Murphy, seriously.

Megatron glared at him and she was shaking with barely suppressed rage. "NOT SURE!!?" She sreamed. "NOT SURE!?! HOW THE PIT COULD YOU BE 'NOT SURE!?!?!'" Optimus's audios rang at her yells. Megatron was getting angrier and angrier by the second and he was– uh, _she_ was– always dangerous when angry. A tiny at the far, far back of his mind squeaked indignantly, _What crawled up her tailpipe and died?!_ Optimus ignored it and squashed the little voice like a bug.

Optimus grabbed the stasis cuff holding her and pulled her to her feet. "Wha-?" She began, but Optimus gripped a line on her neck between two fingers. Megatron stiffened as the energon flow to a central part of her processor was slowed. She instantly felt her internal processes slow and a wave of fatigue wash over her. If Prime closed the line even tighter, she'd fall offline. Starscream flinched and let out a strangled cry of fear at Optimus's actions.

"Prowl," Optimus ordered, all business, Megatron not moving, "cuff Starscream and Soundwave, take them back to the Ark, and put them in the heavy detention area of the brig." Prowl nodded and pulled a pair of stasis cuffs from a subspace pocket. He walked purposefully toward Starscream who visibly tensed. Prowl bent down to cuff her, reached out, and grabbed her arm.

Starscream shrieked in terror and sprang into the air, gunning her turbines and dragging Prowl with her. Prowl yelled in surprise and let go as she flew off. He hit the dusty ground rolling and landed on knee. He shouted after Starscream.

"CAPTURE HIM–uh, I mean, HER!"

---

The Aerialbots took their cue and jumped into the air, gunning their own turbines to catch up with Starscream. They flew straight up and circled Starscream as the seeker made to head towards the Pacific Ocean. Starscream had to perform some rather fancy fly-work to avoid hitting the other fliers. Several times she had to change course, to intent on escape to even think of using her weapons, and ducked this way and that.

She headed in another direction, but was forced to stop when Fireflight flew in front of her barely a foot between them. She hovered in midair to avoid crashing into the other Aerialbots as they surrounded her and flew in circles, trapping her within a ball of Autobots, getting a little bit closer each time around.

Air Raid transformed and said with his glossa hanging out of his mouth, his optics lazy and a goofy grin on his face, "It's she pretty?"

Starscream's face plates heated up and she looked offended. There was no way she was going to let an Autobot hit on her!! Slingshot came up out of nowhere and forced her back a bit. He transformed and flew around her, his own optics lazy and another goofy grin on his face.

Yes, she is!" He agreed to Air Raid's question. He whistled appreciatively at her, making no effort to hide his lingering gaze on Starscream's aft. Starscream squeaked in embrassment and indignation and instinctively covered her aft with her hands. Slingshot and Air Raid put thier thumbs up and whooped joyfully at Starscream's display.

Starscream immediately took her hands off her aft and balled them into fists, her eyes burning with rage and embarrassment. These sorry excuses for fliers were _toying_ with her, making her the object of laughter! Starscream's optics narrowed and her temper quickly rose to the surface. Megatron had done it one too many times for her to take it lying down anymore.

However before she could do anything in retaliation, Starscream felt someone grab onto her back and held her close in a twisted parody of a lover's embrace. She struggled against the Aerialbots arms, but the Aerialbot in question had a firm grip on her. She looked over her shoulders and saw Fireflight, a suave, mischievous grin spread across his features.

"Hey, beautiful," he said in his most suave and seductive voice (which wasn't all that seductive nor suave). "The name's Fireflight. What do you say we leave theses losers here and head someplace quiet?" He ran a hand down Starscream's side, despite the femme seeker's attempts to pull away, and patted her aft lovingly.

Starscream's embarrassment rose as did her anger. She shrieked in indignation and she reached over her shoulder, grabbed Fireflight by his neck, and threw him into Slingshot. The two Aerialbots cried out as the crashed together and they both flew into Air Raid because neither knew whose thrusters were whose.

Starscream grinned evilly in triumph as the three Aerialbots fell towards terra firma, their shouts of surprise and panic music to her audios. Starscream turned to leave for the Nemesis, but before she even got her thrusters into the correct direction, she felt another body slam into her. She thought for a moment that the remaining Aerialbots were going to molest her again, but instead of groping hands, strong hands gripped her forearms behind her and a pair of stasis cuffs snapped onto her wrists.

Immediately, all her weapons systems, battle routines, and defensive subroutines went offline and her thrusters gave out on her as primary flight programs were suppressed. She gasped as gravity did its work and the arms at her back flipped her so that she was laying bridal-style in the arms of Silverbolt, the Aerialbot leader.

Starscream was going to protest at being held this way, convinced that she was going to be taken away to only Primus knew where, to do only Primus knew what. However, she didn't say anything in light of the fact that his face wasn't like the others. His expression was all business, no nonsense, and a hint of disapproval and fury in his features.

A complete contrast to the molesters of before.

Silverbolt addressed the Aerialbots' second-in-command, Skydive. "Make sure the others are alright," he ordered in a pleasant tone, but there was a hardness in his features that showed his anger, "and then tell them NOT to molest another flier ever again. I'll take Starscream down."

Skydive looked dubiously at Starscream in his leaders arms, but nodded and flew down to the other three Aerialbots, who were still trying to figure out whose body parts were whose. As Skydive approached them, they hastily untangled themselves gracelessly and stood before their commander with uncertain looks. Skydive's whole posture screamed righteous fury and he began yelling at them. Starscream caught some of Skydive's reprimands, like "What kind of Autobots are you!?" and "This is the type of behavior I've only seen in the most disreputable places on Cybertron!!"

Skydive was using the guilty-trip tactic, oldest trick in the book, with a 99.9…% success rate.

Those three never stood a chance.

Starscream was pleased to see that Skydive hit Fireflight on the head when he made said something to Skydive's speech. Skydive continually shouted at them and all three Aerialbots huddled together in fear of their second-in-command.

Whatever he was telling them, it scared the slag out of the three Aerialbots.

Starscream hadn't noticed Silverbolt taking her down. They landed back in the circle of Autobots and Silverbolt let Starscream down gently, ever the gentlemech. ."Here you go, Prowl," he said in a tired voice, "she's all yours." He pushed Starscream lightly in between the wing joints towards Prowl. She staggered slightly, but Prowl already had his hands on her shoulders.

"Thanks, Silverbolt," Prowl said and looked up at the other Aerialbots. "By the way, your men are going to get double duties on everything for molesting Starscream." He added. Silverbolt didn't object. He jumped into the air and flew next to Skydive, his frame imposing a sense of imperial authority in him, despite his fear of heights which made him an outcast to his own kind.

Prowl quickly checked the cuffs on Starscream's wrists and said, "You won't be molested by those three again." His tone implied that the words were supposed to be comforting, but Starscream bristled with indignation.

"I don't need you defending me!" She hissed at him. Prowl scoffed quietly.

"Just keep telling yourself that." He said absentmindedly.

During all this commotion, Jazz had taken it upon himself to retrieve a still unconscious Soundwave. After seeing what had happened to Starscream and Megatron, Jazz wasn't surprised to find a female version of Soundwave where the Communications Officer previously disappeared. He had picked her up and carried her, bridal-style, over to the circle of Autobots.

As Jazz approached with Soundwave in his arms, Megatron and Starscream's angry mutterings and attentions were diverted to the sight before them. They had suspected that Soundwave had been turned into a femme as well, but it was disconcerting to see it in person.

Soundwave was just a slim as Megatron and Starscream, but had the largest bust out of the three of them. She had lost her face mask in the explosion, but her red visor was intact. From what little of Soundwave's face they all could see, she was the most beautiful femme out of the three of them. Her chest, pelvic region, upper arms, hands, and lower legs and feet were dark blue, and her thighs and lower arms were white with a red band surrounding each arm and her alt. mode had not changed.

Jazz's faceplates heated up at the sight of such a beautiful femme in his arms. And it had beena long time since he had seen any femme. He had to keep the more dirty thoughts out of his head, lest the Communications Officer read his mind. After all, Soundwave was telepathic and no one knew if she could read minds while asleep.

No one had been dumb enough to find out.

"Alright," Optimus said, back to business now the top three Decepticon rulers were subdued. "Autobots, transform and roll out!" and he closed the energon line on Megatron's neck. She instantly went offline and fell into Optimus's arms. Prowl tired to do the same to Starscream, who was doing everything in her power to avoid him, but he eventually hit the line in the correct spot and Starscream knew no more.

As the Autobots left for their home, none of them noticed two robotic birds, a robotic bat, two small robots, and a robotic cat hurry away towards the Pacific coast.

---

**Ending AN:** Well, there you are! Chapter 2! Okay, for those who caught it, yes, there was a _Megatron: Origin_ reference there. I love _Megatron: Origin_ because you very rarely get to see how the villain became the villain and his antennae panels were one of the most interesting details in it (THANK YOU, ALEX MILNE!!) Also, I believe Soundwave is a telepath. It's an interesting concept, telepathy in Transformers. (If you need canon proof of Transformers telepathy, read _Megatron: Origin_, chapter 2, pg. 44. Soundwave is interrogating an Autobot spy using Lazerbeak as a medium. THANK YOU, ERIC HOLMES!!)

Oh, and to answer your question, Meirelle: Of course Prime knows about the gambling pools!! He's a frequent participant!! :D


	3. Decepticon Bombshell

**AN**: Thank you all so much for the reviews! Almost thirty reviews for two chapters! Primus, I love you guys. I should update!! So here you are: (warning: not a lot of humor and a bit of Decepticon mind-picking-apart-ness.)

---

Chapter 3

The flight back to the Nemesis was quiet. The Decepticon soldiers flew in a haphazard formation, none of them sure just who should take the lead positions up front, who should take point. The seekers and Coneheads, out of habit, flew in front of everyone else, but none of them took point. The other soldiers, including the ground-vehicle based, took positions in the middle and the back. They weren't as adept at flight as the seekers, due to their lack of wings and turbines, but their anti-gravity generators made up for that, so they remained air-borne, riding the slipstreams left by the seekers.

No one spoke. No one dared.

A few of the lesser seekers did a few flips to calm themselves and many of the ground-based Decepticons rode on their backs. It was a great way to relieve tension after a battle and get in a few points in their various flight-back-to-the-Nemesis hierarchy positions. The better you flew, the better your chances in getting a better position in the ranks were.

Though still no one took the front.

Megatron had given the order that was synonymous with "Pack up, we're done here," and all left in a hurry. Everybody had assumed that Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave were right behind them and would meet up with them as they reached the human's Pacific Ocean. As they kept flying and the brown and green land was replaced with blue and white water, it slowly became apparent that their leaders weren't behind them.

They didn't slow down, though.

Each one carried several energon cubes in precarious stacks in their arms, careful not to drop them lest Megatron turn his considerable wrath against them when they got back. So, they kept going, heading for the semi-secret, underwater base. It seemed to take a long time to reach the Nemesis. During that time, the Decepticons thought. Not about the energon cubes, or about the punishments they would receive if one dropped, but about _why_ those position in front were empty.

Although their faces didn't show it, they were worried. And not just about Megatron's wrath if they lost an energon cube. They were worried about their leaders' absence, more Megatron and Soundwave's than Starscream's. However, since none wanted to appear weak in front of the others, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

Now don't get me wrong, they were mean-spirited, gladiatorial, sadistic (and in some cases, masochist) slaggers and would gladly tell you that and show you the Autobot heads and spark chambers they collected as war trophies. But they did have an unspoken sense of loyalty to Megatron.

A rather twisted sense of loyalty, but still.

They had leaders and their leaders were the best, to put it in simple terms.

They were infallible (well, Starscream was infallible to anyone not of his trine, the lead Conehead trine, and most of the ground-pounders).

But due to the isolation from Cybertron, they got to know their leaders a little better and discovered that Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave were like them in the fact that they are fallible, but never let it bother them (except Starscream who whined about it), then made sure that whatever had caused the glitch in the plans was removed.

Usually by a fusion cannon, a null ray, or a look depending on who was bothered.

They were the absolute best of the Decepticons on Cybertron and better than all the Autobots combined.

But they were still just mechs.

Evidence of which was the currently empty lead positions.

The Decepticons had seen their leaders tangled in each other on the battlefield. It was hard not too; Megatron's voice carried over well in that desert wasteland. A few had to stifle laughter at their leaders' antics, but as soon as they saw the Autobots' weapon fire and heard Megatron's call, they ran.

And then they heard the explosion.

Its resulting shockwave even impacted them, flying at speeds close to Mach 1, and nearly made them lose their precious cargo. But they went on as instructed.

A few of the optimistic ones (the ones who were kidding themselves) were sure that their leaders (more specifically Megatron) had survived. There was no way something like that would kill him.

Seriously maim, maybe, but never kill.

The vast majority, however, were more realistic. From a blast that large, Megatron was most likely dead, but Megatron did have a reputation for surviving even when everything else around him was dead. The destruction of Kaon and his battle against Optimus Prime's predecessor, Sentinel Prime, not to mention his furious reputation for being undefeated in combat, made it hard for anyone to believe that Megatron would die because of a simple weapon by some obscure Autobot.

Starscream was similar in constitution and persistence, though his existence was more annoying than anything else. Pretty much nothing could kill the seeker.

There even was a bet on how long it would take Megatron to kill Starscream.

Needless to say, the few who betted on "Never" looked like they would the whole (and considerably large) pool.

And then there was Soundwave. No one was sure just where Soundwave had come from, but his loyalty knew now bounds.

The command structure just wasn't the same without Soundwave.

There was no way Soundwave– upright, uptight, loyal, imposing, quiet, but always listening Soundwave– would or could disappear forever.

It doesn't happen.

None of them would just up and _die_! It was unthinkable and the realistic ones mentally beat themselves into scrap for even entertaining the idea. All three would come back and when they did, they'd celebrate for getting so many energon cubes.

They hoped.

---

Thundercracker and Skywarp took the closest positions to the front, Thundercracker slightly farther in front. He flew in silence, his thrusters making almost no sound and the air slid silently across his unmarred wings. He carried a large net under him with approximately thirty to forty cubes in it. Skywarp sailed in close behind him, for once, totally silent on the way back to the Nemesis, even with his rather noisy flying.

As the large cloud of Decepticons approached the integrated coordinates of the Nemesis's observation tower, Thundercracker opened up his comm. link and sent a questioning ping over the line to the underwater tower's waiting signal array.

_:Decepticon Thundercracker, requesting permission to enter.:_ He said calmly and formally over the line. There was a pause as an answering ping and a quick crackle of static confirmed his connection to whoever was at guard duty today. A gruff, but oddly refined (for a Decepticon) voice floated over the line.

_:Well, it's about time you all got back.:_ Thundercracker sighed as the voice spoken. It just had to be _him_ on tower duty today. _:You know, Thundercracker, you don't have to be so formal. It's only me.:_ said the voice, floating smoothly over the line. Thundercracker hefted the energon cubes in his hands to get a better grip on them.

_:And you know, Onslaught,:_ Thundercracker said in a slightly sarcastic voice, _:that if _I'm_ asking you for permission to enter, back from a mission which Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave all accompanied, you know that either Megatron was lazy and wanted me to do it, when Soundwave was perfectly capable to do so, or that something seriously wrong is afoot.:_ There was silence on the line.

When dealing with Onslaught, it was always good to make yourself seem more intelligent than he thinks you are. It throws a large wrench in his perfectly laid out plans of wordplay and insults, so you would worry about the tactician later while he tried to come up with some kind of a witty answer.

Or at least, that was Thundercracker's preferred method.

Most, however, just let him insult them and waste their time because they couldn't tell the difference between an intelligent insult and a proposal of love. Skywarp usually caught on to the insulting bits and pulled a prank on him of varying severity depending on how damaged the seeker's pride was. Onslaught would then wonder off to his office, clean up, and work out a strategy to make sure that the teleporting seeker never pranked him again. It kept him busy on Saturday nights.

_:What happened?:_ Onslaught said slowly, as Thundercracker's implied threat and bad news sunk in.

_:Let us in and we'll tell you everything we know.:_ He conveniently forgot to mention that they knew little to nothing about Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave's current whereabouts or conditions. But Onslaught didn't need to know that. There was some more grumbling over the line before a reluctant, _:Very well, come on in,:_ and the line closed.

Thundercracker returned his attention to the still waiting Decepticons. Everyone had his optics on him. Thundercracker didn't like their stares. Only Skywarp and the Coneheads weren't looking at him like he was a freak on display. Thundercracker noticed that their optics shone with an odd light. His optics widened as he recognized the look they were giving him.

It was the same kind given to Megatron.

And Thundercracker would have none of that!

"Well _someone_ had to ask Onslaught to open the door!" He said exasperatedly, giving the air of someone who did nothing special. This statement received some mutterings, as well as a few "What was I thinking?" and some "He's only TC…" and they went back to their usual, if somewhat subdued, selves.

A loud rumbling sound echoed up from under the water. The Decepticons, with their precious cargo, moved out of the way as a large purple spire rose out of the water, its gears and extensions grinding together in mechanical harmony, water dripping off of smooth frame. It reached its full and considerable height approximately one and a half human miles in length from the ocean floor, but it only reached a distance of one thousand feet above the ocean's swirling waves. A door lowered out of the side of the observation deck and Onslaught stepped out onto the platform, leaning against the door frame.

"So," he said looking out over the Decepticon raiding party. "I see you got the energon, but I don't see a Megatron, a Starscream, or a Soundwave anywhere." He looked around like he was expecting his leaders to be hiding behind a few of the soldiers in the back. When it became apparent that Megatron, his second, and his third were not there, he stood in front of the doorway and crossed his arms.

"What happened?" He asked in a demanding tone. Thundercracker gripped his net of energon cubes and landed on the platform in front of Onslaught, dropping the (rather heavy) net next to him.

"We can't talk here." He said finally looking Onslaught straight in the visor. "All of us saw what happened on the battlefield, but we need to put the energon cubes away first. The energon takes first priority, remember?" Onslaught was about to protest, but Thundercracker pushed past him and into the observation deck. Onslaught wasn't able to question Thundercracker further because all the other Decepticons (with their own rather large loads) pushed past him as well, and Thundercracker was lost in the crowd.

Onslaught made an exasperated sound (similar to "Tch!"), pressed a button on the inside wall, and the platform returned to its original position as a wall. Onslaught returned to the guard station situated inside the observation deck and inputted commands for them to return to the main areas of the base, all the while glaring around the milling crowd, looking for TC and not finding him.

You'd think a blue seeker would stand out in a crowd of mostly blander colors.

Damn, that seeker was good.

---

The Decepticon rec room.

A veritable cesspool of crime and villainy!!

Oh, wait, wrong show. Sorry.

Ahem.

Rumors spread around the Decepticon underwater-ship-turned-base like wildfire through brown bush. By the time Thundercracker had deposited his collect of energon cubes in the proper warehouse for storage and later delivery, everyone had heard, or at least suspected, Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave's fate. But since no one, not even Thundercracker, had seen just what really happened, there were some rather frantic individuals. They only way anyone would know an individual was frantic would be by seeing their left foot twitch and their arms crossed.

And most sitting around chattering were doing just that.

Everyone had their heads bent together and talked about everything and anything, but all centered around one subject.

Where in the Pit were Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave?!

As Thundercracker walked into the Rec room to get himself a cube of fresh energon (not from the raid. Those would go to Shockwave on Cybertron.), everyone hushed and an eerie silence fell over the congregation. Thundercracker looked about him as all optics and visors turned to him. Thundercracker felt very self-conscious. Why were they all staring at him?

Someone in the middle of the congregation stood up and slowly walked over to Thundercracker. Onslaught stepped through the surrounding Decepticons like an animal walking through reeds. They melted away from him and slunk together again behind him, their optics never leaving the tactician and the sonic seeker.

Onslaught stopped in front of him and looked into Thundercracker's optics. Skywarp stood over Onslaught's shoulder in the crowd. Skywarp, being Skywarp, mouthed "_If he proposes, don't accept!! We can't afford a wedding!!"_ The only think that stopped Thundercracker from shooting the slag out of his wingmate was Onslaught's presence and a sharp poke to his chest which brought him back to the problem at hand.

"What happened?" Onslaught said, his finger directly on Thundercracker's cockpit. "You said you would tell me, and subsequently the rest of us, what happened to Megatron." Thundercracker looked around the room at all the expectant optics trained on his person. He was really starting to feel self-conscious now. Why was _he_ singled out?

Onslaught was going to die later.

And Skywarp too, if he was in the mood.

Thundercracker sighed and asked, "Have you listened to what everyone else has been saying?" Thundercracker was pretty sure that Onslaught's optics narrowed behind his visor.

"And if I have?" He said testily.

"What do they say?" Thundercracker said calmly and coolly. Onslaught crossed his arms.

"They say Megatron is dead," he said, little to no emotion in his voice, "and that Starscream and Soundwave are dead as well. Killed by some new weapon of the Autobots'." He posture and voice told everyone with half a working processor that he didn't believe one word of it. Thundercracker really hated to be the bearer of bad news. They were the ones who were slagged the worst.

The Decepticons believed in shooting the messenger.

"Then why do you need for me to tell you?" He said, just to annoy Onslaught then drop the bombshell, "You already know what happened." Thundercracker stood calmly and relaxed, while really being on the alert. You never knew when a Decepticon would attack you for being the bearer (or confirmer) of bad news.

Onslaught just stood there. His visor and face-mask hid any emotion that might have displayed and everyone was stock still as Thundercracker's horrible, confirming words (which had been directed at them also) sunk in.

Some of the Decepticons just stood there. Others collapsed into chairs. Some turned around to hide their faces and others dimmed their optics and bowed their heads in respect. Thundercracker pushed past Onslaught and through the throng of Decepticons to get his cube. The room was deathly quiet. Everyone sat by themselves and quietly sipped their cubes. They would have spent their entire evening like this, if it wasn't for a large interruption.

There was a large _BANG!!_ as the doors to the Rec Room were thrown aside.

Quite literally.

Thank you, Rumble.

You owe them a new door.

Everyone started and snapped their heads around to see Rumble with his pile-drivers, Frenzy with Laserbeak and Buzzsaw on his shoulders, and Ravage with Ratbat riding on the robotic cat's back. All of them were sopping wet.

"What the-?" Somebody began, but the cassettes walked into the room without so much of an indication that they saw anyone. They walked with tired limbs, but determined optics. They left a trail of salt water behind them and Ravage threw a fish out of his mouth, which flopped pathetically in the pools of water left by the cassettes.

They walked to the middle of the room and stood before Thundercracker and Onslaught who were still trying to intimidate each other, Onslaught failing miserably and Thundercracker not even trying because he decided early on that it wasn't worth his time. Both seeker and tactician looked down at the cassettes and stiffened at the look at their optics. They're optics looked dead and their expressions were blank.

"They told us at the gate that Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave were dead," Frenzy said, his head tilting to one side unconsciously, his face long and melancholy.

"Yes," Thundercracker said, "They're all dead." The cassettes looked pathetic in his optics. Their usually bright armor seemed dull and they looked very tired. Not to mention they were soaking wet. "Did you walk underwater all the way here?" He said incredulously.

They nodded and Rumble said, "Soundwave couldn't use his anti-gravity generator to carry us, and Laserbeak and Buzzsaw couldn't access the doors." Rumble looked terrible with seaweed hanging off his frame. "But they're not all dead." He said with a bit of strength in his voice. If everyone in the room had been listening with rapt attention before, it was nothing compared to the attention the cassettes now held.

Imagine Elvis, the Beatles, and every best loved musician ever heard walking down the street, going on a world tour to perform in every settlement and human dwelling ever built.

And you'd get something close to how much attention and hope Rumble and his next words had.

"Megatron is alive," he said, "and so is Starscream."

If the Decepticons were celebrating on the inside, they didn't show it. They had reputations to maintain after all. But Thundercracker knew why the cassettes weren't celebrating. There was a name missing from Rumble's 'Alive and Kicking' list.

"What happened to Soundwave?" All the cassettes gave Thundercracker the same cold glare and Thundercracker decided not to pursue the subject. He wanted his internals working in the morning, thank you very much.

"Soundwave's dead." Rumble said, his vocal processor glitching slightly, "He's dead."

"You should really say 'she's' dead." Frenzy interrupted.

"What?" Thundercracker said. The Decepticons suddenly stopped celebrating on the inside.

"While Megatron and Starscream are alive, they're not entirely unharmed." Frenzy said to the room at large. All the Nemesis Cons were in the room and they all hung onto Frenzy's every word.

"They're femmes."

Total silence. It was like the world had been destroyed and there was nothing left. Surely they must have misheard Frenzy's statement. Did they say that Megatron– _the_ Megatron– was a… a…

They couldn't bring themselves to think it.

"What?" Thundercracker and Onslaught said together.

"They're femmes." Rumble said, still in a tired voice, but there was the hint of exasperation. "Completely, totally, 100% femmes." He walked over and took Laserbeak to the to the large entertainment consol on one wall. Laserbeak transformed weakly and Rumble inserted the cassette into a slot in the consol. As Laserbeak uploaded the video and audio feeds to the consol, the Nemesis 'Cons crowded around the screen and waited for the reconnaissance bird to do his job.

"_WHAT IN THE PIT DID YOU DO TO ME!?!!" _Starscream yelled on the screen. They watched the video in stupified silence. As Megatron came into view, wires were beginning to fry. At the end of the recon video, there was total stunned silence.

Nobody moved.

They just stared at the blank screen.

Someone in the back (a certain purple and black seeker) yelled, "I **KNEW** STARSCREAM WAS A WOMAN!!!!"

At that, everybody (sans Skywarp and the cassettes) fainted dead on the floor with an almighty _**CRASH!!**_, they're processors overheating trying to process all the information at once.

The cassettes looked unconcernedly at the unconscious Decepticon ranks. Rumble retrieved Laserbeak and they all retreated to one of the empty booths in the back of the rec room. "Skywarp," Rumble called back. The seeker perked up. "Wake us up when everyone else does." The cassettes didn't even wait for an answer before all fell offline exhausted.

Skywarp looked at all the unconscious forms around him. He looked left, then right, and then straightened.

"Well," he said to the room at large, throwing his arms in the air, "When in Rome!"

And he promptly fell over, processor overheating.

---

**Ending AN:** Well, there you are. The Decpeticons have been given the bombshell. I know there wasn't a lot of humor here, but it is important chapter. I love Skywarp. So, yeah, reviews are much appreciated and give me an excuse to keep writing. You know you want to press that little button right down there. And also, I need people to take the poll on my profile so I can put another warning in here if needs be. Thank you!

**Edit:** Okay, to answer **trackStar 321**, according to Wikipedia and probably the Tfwiki, the Nemesis crashed into the Pacific Ocean. Originally, I thought that since the Autobots crashed-landed into Mt. St. Helens (remember the eruption? Be on the look out for out of the ordinary vehicles, people) the Decepticons must have crashed nearby. The closest ocean, therefore, was the Pacific. So until the canon writers tell us it was in the Atlantic or the Arctic Oceans, they're staying in the Pacific.


	4. High Heels are not for Everyone

**AN:** It's always good to start with weekend with a laugh, dont' you think? So, I thought to myself, why not have another chapter of GBDS?Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts!! You guys are amazing and I'm glad you're really enjoying this!! I even managed to impress someone who doesn't like genderbenders! :D

But anyway, school will be getting in the way of my writing for a while, but I will get around it! Either way, Megatron and Starscream take the front here and the humor is back in business.

Also, **Monimonika** and anyone else having trouble visualizing Megatron's antennae panels, there is a link to an image of them in my profile. I did not make them up; the design belongs to Alex Milne, the colors to Josh Perez.

So, without further ado, I present to you Chapter 4 of **Genderbending: Decepticon-Style**!!

---

Chapter 4

"Augh…"

Megatron's red optics flickered as she came online and she groaned audibly. She hissed loudly as the mother of all headaches assaulted her CPU and she offlined her optics from the pain. Her head pounded– more than pounded; it was like Rumble was using his pile-drivers on her cranial unit. At full power. She laid still for several moments, not moving one iota, and the pain diminished to a dull throb. Her optics flickered back online as her systems rebooted and she tried to move some part of her body. However, the pain in her CPU increased at her attempts, so she stayed still. The pain once again diminished.

Megatron couldn't exactly remember exactly just _why_ she was here. What had happened? And for that matter, where was _here_?

Her CPU told her politely to let it do its job and not clog it up with useless thoughts about why they were in their situation.

Megatron reluctantly let it.

As the vast majority of her systems came back online, she made a short assessment of her surroundings through the light buzz of pain. The first thing she noticed (and she was forever grateful for) was the fact that she was even online.

Which meant that the Autobots hadn't killed her, yet!

A definite cause for celebration!

_Yay!_ Megatron thought sarcastically.

Next in line for reports was her sense of gravity with a report on her position. It told her calmly that she was lying on her right side, her arms and legs at awkward angles, but still firmly attached to her body. Her side panels cut in line (throwing her energon tank's report to the end) and reported in a high-pitched, overly eager voice that whatever she was lying on was a cold, hard cybertronium-titanium-gold-iron alloy with trace amounts of other metals and (for some reason) colored a dull grey.

_How do my sensor panels know what color the floor is?_ She thought worriedly. _On second thought,_ she decided after two milliseconds,_ I don't really want to know._ She went back to reading the reports on her HUD.

Her optics (patient as always) told her she was in a dark, enclosed room and that if she waved her hand in front of her face, she wouldn't see it. Not that she had the energy or the desire to test that theory, even though it was mostly likely wrong. The rest of her systems each gave their reports in a quick, concise manner. Her energon levels were at about 37% capacity and her body completely unharmed, although her CPU was doing damage recovery from a temporary loss in energon. Her other sensor nodes took a long time to come back online and her sensory network was limited to her hands, face, and for whatever reason, her right side panels.

All of this took place in the span of about 5.462 seconds.

Megatron was a little peeved that it had taken so long.

Although she didn't want to– as in she _really_ didn't want to, the headache (though dull) making her disoriented– she reluctantly moved her arms under her and pushed herself off of the floor. She needed to know where she was. True, recharge sounded really nice right about now, but when in enemy territory, you have to look around. Her arms felt like lead weights and her body was unresponsive to movement commands, but she eventually managed to lift the upper half of her body off of the floor and take a look at her surroundings. She heard a vague _clink, clink_ sound as she moved, but shrugged it off.

The room was fairly spacious to a Transformer, about sixty to sixty-five feet wide, eighty to eighty-five feet long and about sixty feet high. The walls were a dull, dark gray and the only furniture in the room was a chair on the wall opposite where Megatron was sitting. The chair was welded to the floor. Megatron thought that was odd.

_Why would someone weld the chair to the floor? _Megatron thought absent-mindedly. _Why would someone even want to pick the chair up?_ She shook her head. _Stupid Autobots…_

At that last thought, everything came rushing back.

She gasped as she remembered everything now that her processor was back to semi-normal working speed. _The battle, the explosion, the Autobots, Starscream and Soundwave… Prime…!!_ She looked around the room again. It was definitely an Autobot cell or containment unit. _The Autobots always had bad taste in interior design,_ she mused. Dammit!! She shook her head violently. Why was she always thinking the stupidest things!?! Who cares about the Autobots' interior design aside from the fact that the designer should be fired?!!

Well, at least she was still alive.

That was one of the (or the) only good thing that happened so far.

She fervently hoped that the femme-thing had all been a bad dream; that the day's raid hadn't even started yet; that now she was finally awake from her horrible nightmare, she could get on with her life and pretend that dream never happened!

_Please, pleasepleaseplease, Primus-pretty-please,_ she thought, getting on her proverbial knees,_ let everything on that desert have been a bad dream!!!_ There was only one way to find out.

A quick look down at herself dashed those hopes instantly.

She was still a femme.

And a rather good-looking one, too, if no one minded her saying.

Megatron shook her head violently again to get rid of the thought. Why did she keep thinking the stupidest things?! There was something definitely wrong with this picture. According to her diagnostic programs, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her physically and all her programs, subroutines, and automated responses were in working order. The only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that almost all of her offensive battle protocols and subroutines had been locked behind a medical firewall and her weapons were disabled and missing. Even her favorite fusion cannon had been disabled and removed. She could see it missing from her HUD body schematics.

Which meant that the Autobots' medic (Hatchet, she believed he was called) had seen to her. Did he do something to her mind while he had dug around in her systems? If so, he would die a horrible death, preferable on his own medical berth. But if the rumors about the Autobot medic and his Med-Bay were true, she was screwed.

And not in the good way!

The diagnostic program finished its scans and sent back the _ping_ for the all clear.

It didn't even mention the whole femme-thing.

_Stupid diagnostics…_ She though disgustedly. _Can't tell the difference between a dead mech and a live one…_ _or a femme…_

She was going to scrap the thing when she got back to the Nemesis.

The headache was coming back again. She had ignored it completely during her argument with herself, reality, and Primus-knew-what-else, but now it came back with a vengeance. She grabbed her head as it pounded against the inside of her head. She flopped down, sitting in an upright position. She moaned in pain as the headache didn't go away.

Why wouldn't it leave her alone!?!

Through the pain, she heard the _clink, clink_ sound again as she moved her arm. She looked at her wrist and saw a heavy, thick cuff with a chain attached to it. She followed the chain with her optics to the floor where it pooled then went behind her. She looked at the other cuff and chain attached to her other wrist, and it was the same situation with both her legs, the cuffs around her ankles.

She followed the chains to the wall behind her and looked up. The chains led into five niches in the shape of an equilateral pentagon in the wall. She tilted her head as some small part of her mind squeaked, _Five?_ Megatron concurred (with the statement, not the squeaky voice. The voice was just creepy).

Two arms, two legs, made four limbs.

Right?

Megatron shook her head again (ignoring the headache as best she could). She wasn't too confident about her CPU's ability to do anything right at the moment.

… Maybe there was something wrong with her math units.

She mentally slapped herself for thinking that last one.

With her processor fully concentrated on her surroundings again, she looked up to the fifth niche in at the point of the pentagon. She followed the chain with her optics to the floor where it pooled, and then disappeared over her shoulders. Suspecting, but not really believing, she raised her hand to her neck.

Now that she bothered to notice, there was a collar around her neck, made of the same heavy material that the other cuffs were made of. She groaned inwardly. Something told her that this was the Autobots' doing. _Duh!_ She though savagely, marveling at her own stupidity, _of course this is the Autobots' doing! Who else would chain you to a wall!?_

Okay, so maybe Starscream _would_ chain her to a wall, but Starsceram was a femme and probably in the same situation.

Subsequently, she didn't count.

She crawled over to the lower left-hand niche and inspected the hole in the wall. The chain fed into it neatly, all the chains kept clean and oiled. She looked inside the tiny hole and saw a turning mechanism, illuminated by the glow from her blood-red optics. Apparently, the chains could retract into the wall, effectively immobilizing and binding the prisoner to it.

Maybe those Autobots weren't completely stupid after all.

She looked around the room again. If she knew the Autobots' paranoid security director as well as she thought she did (like I said, rumors in the Decepticons ranks spread _fast_), then there were at least fifteen or so cameras in there with her, several audio feeds, and more alarms than anywhere else. _Might as well go and find them,_ she thought, _that way I insult them though the camera!_

Megatron mentally slapped herself twice.

Maybe she was going insane.

_Damn it…_ She thought in disgust, _I'm not crazy. Just… eccentric! Yeah, that's it, eccentric._

Either way, crazy or no, she got on all fours and was about to stand up, when the sound of mechanical whirring caught her audios.

She looked toward the door on the opposite side of the room. Now that she got a good look at it, the door had no groves or any other indentations into or out of the wall. It was like someone had taken a drawing tool and drew the outline of a door on the wall. There were two slots in the door: one up near the middle-top (for optics, Megatron presumed) and one at the bottom (to pass things through). She heard the mechanical whirring again and the slot at the bottom opened.

Bright light entered through the opening, cutting through the darkness like a knife through butter. She watched a shadow fell over the opening and a hand threw something into the room, before the bottom door snapped shut and everything was silent and dark again. Megatron looked at what the Autobot (whoever he was) threw into the room with her.

A single, lone energon cube sat innocently fifteen feet from the door.

Normally, she wouldn't have touched an energon cube give to her by the enemy. What if it was drugged with some sedative? However, her energon tank sent her a quick message about her energon levels and Megatron quickly agreed with it. And the standard-size cube in front wasn't going anywhere.

Not to mention that her energon reserves _were_ at 37%...

She stared at it for a moment longer then jumped to her feet and tired to run towards it.

Notice how it says _tried_.

Before she had even gone one step, Megatron felt her center of gravity shift like clothes in a dryer. Before she knew what was happening, her arms flailed about her and she leaned too far back on one heeled (_When the slag did my feet get heels!?!_ She shouted in her mind) foot before she overbalanced and fell on her back with a resounding _**CRASH!!**_

She cried out as her head hit the hard floor and the chains clattered to the floor around her. She stared up at the ceiling. "What the frag…?" she murmured staring at the blank ceiling. She quickly sat up, groaning, and looked around. There was nothing to get in her way and she knew she didn't trip over one of the trailing chains. She got shakily to her feet (now that she paid closer attention to them, they really did have heels). She stood stock still as she balanced on the precarious Transformers-equivalent of two and a half inch heels.

She felt horribly unbalanced and like the lightest touch could send her crashing back to the floor. Her legs wobbled as Megatron's weight shifted from one unstable point to another. She cried out as she leaned too far one way, then another.

_How the slag do femmes even WALK let alone fight!?!_ She thought incredulously. And just how were the Autobot femmes kicking her men's collective afts on Cybertron!? _Maybe I should look into a better training regime._ Megatron didn't even try to swat away the irrelevant thought.

A few tense moments and several flails later, Megatron's legs stopped noticeably wobbling and she stood up straight.

Granted she had her arms out like she was walking on a high-wire and her upper body was leaning too far back.

But, hey, it was a start.

Megatron grinned at her success. _Haha!_ She shouted triumphantly. _Take _that_, femme body! You can't conquer me!!_

This was easy! This weak femme body was no match for the might of Megatron!! Her optics zeroed in on the energon cube sitting in front of her and she licked her lips hungrily. She (unwisely) put her arms back down at lifted one heeled foot to take a step forward towards the cube. She leaned forward with her leg towards the fuel.

She didn't even get that one step before her center of gravity shifted again and, arms flailing, she fell too far forward, landing on the floor with another loud _**CRASH!!**_

Megatron, lying on her front, her aft in the air, and her arms flat on the floor beside her, just looked at the cube just sitting in front of her. Her optics narrowed in annoyance

It was going to be a long orbital cycle…

---

"AAAAAAGGGGGUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!"

Starscream charged at the wall again, screaming at the top of her vocal processor. She rammed into it hard and grabbed at the chains that connected her to said wall, twisting and tugging and pulling on them, trying to break them. She had been doing that for the better part of the last few hours or so.

It didn't work very well.

You'd think she'd notice by now.

Starscream screamed (no pun intended) at her futile attempts, twisting and tugging and generally making every attempt to let the Autobots know that they had an unhappy, imprisoned, sky-less seeker in their midst.

And everyone knows: an unhappy seeker is a dangerous seeker.

Starscream charged towards the door for the twelfth time that day. She was determined to tear the stupid thing off of its proverbial hinges. The chains attached to her limbs and neck rattled and clanged loudly as they slammed against each other and the walls, because of Starscream's frantic movements. She was about twenty feet from the door before the chains pulled taut. She made a choking sound as the collar pressed against her neck and pressure was put on her vocal processor. The chains (adding insult to injury) yanked her back, her feet slipped out from under her, and she slammed onto her back (and subsequently her wings) with an almighty _**BANG!!**_

She screamed in pain as her sensitive wing joints landed on the chains, which dug into her back structure. She quickly sat up and wrapped her arms around herself to get at her aching wing joints, trying to sooth them. She cursed the Autobots and her situation with equal venom, still yelling at the top of her vocal processor. She raised herself off of the floor and kept her back straight, stomping around and punching the walls with her fists. She wasn't entirely sure if this was the Autobots' main base or some hellhole underground, but she was going to get out.

Although there was one thing she firmly believed:

THIS WAS ALL _**MEGATRON'S FAULT**_!!!!

Starscream _knew_ something like this was going to happen! SHE _KNEW_ IT!!! Every time they left the base following one of Megatron's stupid, stupid, Primus-fragged plans, nothing ever went right! There were always holes in Megatron's plans that the Autobots could use to destroy the entire structure of that half-afted plan!! Every time Starscream tried to tell Megatron about the holes, she was always met with a back hand and a sharp comment about her incompetence. If Megatron had just listened to Starscream in the first place, they wouldn't be in this fragging mess! They'd be back at the base toasting their victory over a warm cube of fresh energon!

AND THEY SURE AS HELL WOULDN'T BE **FEMMES**!!!

And Soundwave might still be alive…

But _**NO~O**_!!!

Megatron had to insist on doing things her way and (as usual) they had their afts handed to them on a Cybertronium platter!! They had been knocked out, turned into femmes, captured, had their weapons removed, inspected by the Autobots' medic (Hatchet, she had heard him be called on more than one occasion by the two Lamborghini Autobots that loved to jump on her back) and imprisoned in a room with no windows, one door, and chains by the Autobots.

The _Autobots!!_ The supposed "good-guys" had imprisoned a flyer– **UNDERGROUND**– and was– _CHAINED_– to a wall IN. A. _**DARK**_. _**BOX!!!**_

And she used to think the Decpeticons were evil, but this just took the proverbial energon cake.

It was the worst day of being online she ever suffered! If she had her weapons, she would have already busted herself out of this room and flown to the Nemesis, with or without Megatron and Soundwave. What did it matter if either of them were alive?! They were nothing but thorns in her side panels.

"Do you hear me, Autobots!?!" She screamed at the top of her voice, she pounded harder on the wall for extra emphasis. "Do you hear me!?!?! I'll make all of you suffer so that you'll beg for death at my hands!!!" She got to her feet, the extra Transformers equivalent of an inch to the bottom of her foot not bothering her in the slightest. The seekers were used to walking in something resembling high-heels, their turbines acting as the heel. She grabbed the chain attached to the collar at her throat and bit down on it with her fangs. The metal screeched and whined as the sharp metal ground itself on the chain. They weren't going to keep her here, she swore to herself.

She was determined to get out, fly, have an energon cube or forty, get all the dust and grime out of her systems, and recharge for a month or more.

In that order, she might add.

And _then_ she would kill the Autobots.

Either way, they were going to die and quite horribly, too!

When it became apparent that her fangs weren't working on the chains, she abandoned the attempt, throwing the chain from her, and started shouting at the fifteen little, hidden cameras she knew were in there with her.

"ALL AUTOBOTS WILL DIE BY MY HAND!!!!" She roared at the walls, her arms failing about tugging at anything she could get her hands on. "STARTING WITH YOU, SKYFIRE!!!" If she was going to start with the death threats of individuals, she might as well start with the Autobot bane of her existence: Skyfire (though Prowl and Prime were close seconds).

"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME, SKYFIRE!!!" She continued to scream. "YOU DESERVE TO DIE FIRST FOR BETRAYING THE DECEPTICONS!!! I'LL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS, TEAR YOUR WINGS FROM YOUR BACK, FORCE YOU TO WATCH AS I DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU HOLD SACRED, RIP OUT YOUR STILL BEATING SPARK AND HANG IT AND YOUR HEAD ON MY _WALL_!!!!!!!"

After all, the flying fragger deserved to die for betraying the Decepticons (more specifically her) and defecting to the ground-crawling Autobot ranks.

He had signed his death warrant when he ripped the Decepticon symbol from his person.

She charged at the wall with the chain mechanisms again, determined to break those chains through a sheer force of will. She slammed into it head first and tried to claw into the small niches to get at the mechanisms.

Yeah, good luck with that, Starscream.

---

Red Alert turned off his security monitor and swiveled in his chair to face the congregation of Autobot officers behind him.

"Well," he said to the room at large, "that explains what Megatron and Starscream have been doing for the past few hours." He turned his head to look at two monitors on the wall, one depicting Megatron still trying to reach the energon cube; the other depicting Starscream's rant still going at full speed.

Red Alert got up from his chair and walked past his commanders and the other officers toward the door. "You know," he said with a mischievous grin, to the stunned Autobots, an amused glint in his calm optics, "we can't make a plan if all of the officers are here staring at a blank screen."

No one moved, too stupefied (or immobilized by laughter) to hear the security director.

Red Alert's optics narrowed. He sighed and shrugged. "Okay, then, I'll just put my entire collection of videos of you all out onto the human's Internet."

All the officers (including Prime) ran out of the room like the smelters of the pit were on their heels. He heard the distinct sound of them getting down to business. "Come on, Red!!" One of the officers called, "We don't have all day!"

"I'm coming!" He called after him. He walked out of the security room and walked calmly down the hall. He wouldn't be late. Not if a certain Prime wanted his blackmail on the Internet.

Sometimes, it paid to be a security mech.

---

**AN**: Because Red Alert is awesome, glitch or no glitch. *Evil laugh*

Anyway, I hear that some are anxious to know about what happened to Soundwave? I've heard some interesting things in my reviews. But rest assured, I will not tell you which ones were correct!! X) You'll have to wait one more itty-bitty-little chapter to find out.

Also, I am a total believer of Itchy-Bitchy Starscream. X)


	5. Crownless Prince and Wakeup Call

**An:** Ah, another weekend and another chapter of GBDS!! Now did Soundwave live or die?! What do you all think? Read on and find out!!

Also, question: do you want longer waits for longer chapters or shorter waits for shorter chapters? Because this took me a week to write and edit, and it's practically double the length of any of the other chapters!

---

Chapter 5

"YOU FRAGGING IDIOT!!"

Great, someone was yelling again–

"But I–!!"

And someone else was trying to defend themselves–

_**CLANG!!**_

–and there's the punishment!

Standard detention procedure in the Decepticon ranks, although it was more annoying than anything else.

Thundercracker's face scrunched together at the irritating noise.

_Why can't they ever shut up?_ He thought bitterly. He rolled onto his side, unconsciously keeping pressure off of his wings, and tried to get back to sleep. He felt very tired, though he couldn't remember ever getting to his quarters.

_Oh, well…_ he thought sleepily._ Recharge first…_

The yelling intensified in volume and Thundercracker winced at the noise. It was always a pain when someone was yelling while everyone else was sleeping. Voices and gossip carried a little too well in the Nemesis's metal corridors.

_Megatron must be yelling at Starscream again,_ Thundercracker mused though his half-recharging processor. _Wonder what Starscream did to piss him off this time? It's far too early for anything…_ He decided to ignore the voices and was about to drift back to sleep when "Megatron" spoke again.

"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE THAT STUPID REMARK!?! I HAD TO SEE TO ALL OF THEM FOR OVERHEADED PROCESSORS!!!" The first voice yelled in anger.

"Well, it sort of fit at the time!!"

Thundercracker found the previous statement very odd, even though his half-sleeping processor. Stupid remark? Overheated processors? _What the slag is going on?_ Thundercracker though as shifted again, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Why would Megatron see to anyone for an overheated processor? He only knew basic field repair. And Starscream said something stupid? Well, that was no surprise, but causing _overheated processors_? That was new.

"Hey!! Watch where you're swinging that thing!"

"DID YOU JUST GIVE ME AN ORDER IN **MY** MED-BAY!?!!"

_**CLANG!!!**_

"OW!! FRAG IT–!!"

Okay, now Thundercracker was confused. For one thing, the first voice was didn't sound like Megatron's, and since when did Megatron own the Med-Bay? Everyone knew that the Med-Bay was Hook's domain. You just don't mess with that medic if you wanted to stay in one piece. The second voice was too deep to be Starscream's and the tone just didn't fit. Not to mention that there was a lack of pleading for forgiveness.

Just what in the world was going on?

Guess he'd have to get up to find out. _Ugh… I don't wanna get up…_ he moaned pathetically in his mind. _I just want to sleep…!_

He blearily onlined one optic. A sideways, myriad array of mostly purple and gray colors filled his HUD display, though static obscured parts of it. Old warnings of an overheated central processor flashed red across his HUD, against the backdrop of the colorful haze of the room. He had an overheated processor? _Huh?_ He thought._ When did I_…? He quickly checked his chronometer. According to the readings, he had been unconscious for almost nine earth hours.

"But they're fine!!" The second voice (totally _not_ Starscream's now that he bothered to pay closer attention) said, "I mean, come on! You're the best medic we've got and you can practically repair anything with your optics shuttered!!"

There was another loud _**CLANG!!**_ and another harsh curse.

"Primus, frag it, Hook! CALM DOWN!!"

"NOT UNTIL I HANG YOUR SPARK CHAMBER ON MY FRONT DOOR!!"

"**Quiet**…!" Thundercracker croaked loudly. Thundercracker's vocal processor glitched quietly as he spoke. He presumed that his processor was still doing damage recovery. The arguing voices quieted down and he saw two colorful blobs float in front of his optics. One of the blobs was bright green and purple and the other was black and purple. The black and purple blob floated towards him. As the blob came closer, its outline became more and more distinct. The blob bent down in front of Thundercracker's turned face. Thundercracker had to suppress another groan as Skywarp's half amused, half concerned face smiled at him.

"Hey, TC," Skywarp's blurry face said in a semi-concerned voice, as it swam in and out of focus, "You okay? Didn't damage anything too important in that head of yours?" Skywarp tapped his helm with one finger as a friendly gesture. Thundercracker felt as like someone was driving a spike through his cranial unit. He offlined his optics and hissed loudly, his face scrunched up in a menacing way. Skywarp (for once) took the hint and stopped tapping, though he didn't pull away.

"So, seriously," Skywarp said, scrutinizing Thundercracker with one optic, "how are you feeling? Still remember my name? Still remember yours– _HIERG_!!" Skywarp's vocal processor made a gagging sound as Thundercracker's hand shot out and grabbed his neck, claws digging into sensitive wires. Thundercracker squeezed Skywarp's neck ever so slightly so that little drops of energon coated Thundercracker's fingers.

"Skywarp," Thundercracker said in a dangerously low voice, his optics flashing a bright, blood red instead of their usual russet, "if you don't get out of my face right now, I will personally see to it that you are dismantled and used as repair parts to fix this ship's _waste disposals_!!" Thundercracker's voice was still horse and scratchy and it sounded more like a feral roar than anything else.

"Love you, too, TC." Skywarp choked out. Then there was weird sound (to put it in phonetic terms, it was a _Skeeeruuu-FONK!_ kind of sound) and Skywarp was gone, Thundercracker's clawed hand squeezing air.

_Damn teleportation…_ He thought with something akin to disgust.

Thundercracker growled again clenching his fist around an imaginary throat. The purple and green blob approached him and Thundercracker turned his head upwards and flipped onto his back, still careful with his wings, to get a better look at Hook's blurred and visored face. The unofficial medic had a deep, annoyed frown on his face and Thundercracker was pretty sure that his optics were narrowed behind the visor. Hook raised one green hand and held up three fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He said, his annoyed frown deepening. Thundercracker, adjusting his optics, stared at the medic for a second before warily replying.

"Uh… three?" Hook huffed and nodded his head slightly. He put his hand down, pulled back, and toned down the lights above Thundercracker's head. Thundercracker didn't even notice they were there until the lights dimmed. He saw the large medical flood lights over his head and the purplish metal and meta-glass ceiling of the Decepticon Repair/Med-Bay. The lights moved out of his field of vision and Thundercracker saw all of the first two levels of the Med-bay filled with mechs.

Wait a minute! Since when was he able to see the others?!

Thundercracker sat up quickly on his berth. He looked down, saw whose berth he was situated on, and felt a heavy weight fall into the pit of his energon tank.

Now before everyone gets royally confused, here's the lowdown.

The Decepticon Repair/Med-Bay was a large multi-Transformer-story room tall enough for Devastator, Menasor, and Bruticus to stand on each other's shoulders and still have more than enough room to walk around the main area. Tall, eh? The center a large circle with floors that ringed the open area like in a Greek amphitheatre made the central open area, but each floor ring made a complete circle and there were no cut-offs. Shockwave designed it specifically to allow the flyers to fly around and combiners to stand up combined, while also providing ample space to hold every Decepticon ever sparked. Ramps were built between the floors to transport mechs to higher levels and as general access for the medics and the flying-impaired.

There were six floors in total (seven, if you counted the basement where dead mech were recycled). The bottom of the floor above acted as the ceiling for the floor below, except for the ground floor which was the bottom of everything. Pillars set in strategic locations provided the support for the massive structure.

There were hundreds of berths on each floor to support the multitude of mechs the Nemesis could hold. All of them had the basic necessities for repairing a mech no matter how bad the damage, granted the mech was still _alive_ when he got there. Everyone practically had a berth to themselves. The ground floor was used for emergency situations and surgeries, Ground-based Decepticons were mainly on the first and second floors, and flyers preferred the higher floors, though no one complained about their seating arrangements.

Hook had made sure of that.

No one dared to mess with their sadistic (though talented) medic.

Even so, most of the mechs decorated their berths with junk from their quarters and it was unheard, common courtesy was to go to your own berth for repairs. Even Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave had their own personal berths. Their berths took up the center of the large circle set side-by-side where the three highest ranked were seen to. Theoretically, it was supposed to be easily accessible to the medic in case of an emergency, but it also made a greater target since snipers could fire from anywhere on the concentric-ringed floors.

Now do you see _why_ Megatron usually avoided the Med-Bay?

Not to mention that the rumors about the Autobots' own medic, Hatchet, didn't help in the slightest.

Either way, the source of Thundercracker's discomfort was from the fact that he was sitting on _Megatron's_ own berth.

In the middle of the room.

Thundercracker quickly prayed for his spark's safety if Megatron ever found out.

Hook was over underneath the overhang of the first floor, checking some monitors attached to a pillar. Thundercracker saw a picture of himself and had a feeling that was his medical charts. Hook imputed some information, closed Thundercracker's medical record, and then shut down the terminal. The medic walked over to a cart with various pointy medical tools and wheeled it over to Thundercracker's side. Hook didn't even look at him or offer an explanation as to why _he_– Thundercracker– was sitting on Megatron's berth.

"Hook–" the sonic seeker began. Hook held up a hand and Thundercracker had the feeling that Hook was glaring at him through the visor.

"Before you say anything," the medic said, putting his hand down and grabbing tool that looked like a human PDA from the cart, "let me see your helm."

Thundercracker resentfully shut him mouth and bent his head forward to expose the back and top parts of his helm for the medic's inspection. Hook ran a large sensor over the top of Thundercracker's helm. The machine in Hook's hands beeped and readouts flashed across the screen. Thundercracker saw the reflection of the readouts in Hook's visor. He didn't understand one word of the medical jargon flying across the screen. But apparently Hook could.

"Well," he said testily, "according to this, your processor is on its way to a full recovery." The medic smirked. "I always do a perfect job." His haughty tone was unmistakable.

Thundercracker resisted the urge to roll his optics.

Hook put the tool away and wrote something down on a datapad with his stylus. Thundercracker only caught the Cybertronian word for "normal" from the medic's long, jargon-filled note. Thundercracker watched impatiently as Hook began to check that Thundercracker's limbs were all in working order and there was no delay in reflexes. When Hook began on his knees, Thundercracker felt the odd sensation of being watched.

Not in the usual "Something's-out-to-get-me" kind of watching, but more of the "Dear-Primus-do-I-have-a-stalker?!" kind of watching.

Dreading who he would see on those first two floors, Thundercracker looked up.

Every single mech on both floors were near gaping at him from their perches on the edge of the rings.

_Oh, slag…_ Thundercracker thought as they noticed him looking. There were wide optics and quiet muttering. Others just stared at him as though he was a freak on display or some amazing attraction at a human zoo. Thundercracker's derma-plating crawled under the scrutiny of so many optics. He bent his head quickly, while still giving the impression that he hadn't broke optic contact first.

"Hook?!" Thundercracker hissed his optics narrowing. The medic only grunted to show he was listening. "Why in the Pit did you put me _here!?_ On _Megatron's_ repair berth!?"

Hook didn't stop testing Thundercracker's knee joints and wrote something on the datapad. After a few tense seconds, he finally said, "I didn't want to haul your aft all the way up to your repair berth. You know," sarcasm entered his voice, "the one all the way on the top and in the back corner? Now hold this."

He handed Thundercracker some weird looking tool that looked a lot like several scalpels turned into a stabbing device. Thundercracker really didn't want to know what the scalpel-thing was for.

"Hook," Thundercracker said in a low, angry voice, "you could have just dumped me with the others on the lower rings!" Thundercracker was feeling really self-conscious. The other Decepticons hadn't taken their optics off of him once. He had no idea what they were waiting for, but he sure as hell wasn't replacing Megatron in the ranks!

"You were the last to come in," the medic said finally, "and I didn't feel like hauling your aft to up to a berth, so I just dumped you here." Hook's tone told Thundercracker that the medic wasn't being entirely truthful. Thundercracker was about to question Hook further, but Hook's maltreatment of his thrusters stopped any more verbal interrogations.

After verifying that Thundercracker's legs and thrusters were in working order, Hook stood up and wrote his findings on the datapad. He continued to ignore Thundercracker's questioning glare and kicked the cart towards the wall, where it crashed against the wall and bounced back to its original position next to the main medical records terminal. "You're fine." The medic said. "Now, is there anything else you want to know or can I get you out of my Med-Bay?"

Thundercracker looked up at the other Decepticons, who were _still_ staring at him. "Yeah," He said in a falsely happy tone, "why the hell are they all _staring_ at me?!" Thundercracker knew that the others might look to him for leadership, but he needed confirmation just in case.

He really, _really_ didn't want to rule the Decepticon Empire. Besides, it wasn't his place! Everyone knew who the next mech in line for the throne was and it sure as slag wasn't him!

Hook eyed him warily, absentmindedly cleaning several tools. Without saying anything, he abruptly turned and headed for the ramp to the next floor. Thundercracker was about to call after him when Hook said, "Thundercracker, get out of my Med-Bay. The other officers are waiting to speak to you in the War Room."

Hook disappeared upstairs and all the optics disappeared from their perches and he heard the distinct sound of several conversations starting. It was obvious that Thundercracker wasn't going to get any answers from the medic. He reluctantly stood up and headed for the double doors that lead to the outer corridors. As he opened the doors and passed through them, he caught a piece of conversation just before the doors shut behind him with a soft hiss.

"But this is _**TC**_ we're talking about! There's no way he would lead–!"

---

_Systems rebooting…_

…

_Energon reserves: 64%_

…

_System performance: 94%_

…

_Checking for Data Corruption…_

…

_Corrupt Data found…_

…

_Delete corrupt data? Y/N_

…

…_******…_

…

_Deleting corrupt data…_

…

_Corrupt data deleted…_

…

_Commencing system scans…_

…

_Scans complete…_

…

_Commencing System restart…_

…

_Restart complete…!_

---

Soundwave's optics came on dimly. He groaned and shook his head as his systems rebooted. A headache pounded through his CPU, making him disoriented. Even so, his CPU replayed the memories of the past battle in his mind. He remembered his cassettes being hurt, running to them, getting tangled up with Starscream and Megatron, and then… blank. He must have hit his head when they were attacked.

_Did anyone get the name of the Autobot that ran me over…?_ He thought weakly. He paused for a moment. It was weird, but true, so Soundwave agreed with and ignored it, attributing it to his still rebooting processor. But even with the slow processor, Soundwave knew one thing.

He felt terrible.

Every joint, servo, and wire in his body was aching and he was dead sure that Optimus Prime had run him over at some point in that last battle. His headache continually pounded against the inside of his cranial unit. He brought his hands up and massaged his temples, sending out certain electrical pulses to sooth the headache. He almost never got headaches. It came with being a telepath and having to listen to his cassettes argue day in and day out.

One became immune to these sorts of things after millennia of enduring it.

Multiple _pings_ sounded through his mind. Soundwave turned his attention back to his HUD displayed across the back of his visor. Each of his systems had sent a minor report on system status and function capacity. He brought up the first notice and quickly read through it. It reported that some of his recent memory files had been corrupted and subsequently deleted. Soundwave didn't question which memories they were, and let the deletion slide for the moment. He continued with the reports.

Optics: Functioning. Okay, that was normal.

Tank: 64% capacity. A little on the empty side, but enough to last.

Sensory Network: Functioning, slow to restart. Odd, but manageable

Weapons: Gone.

_What?!_

Soundwave snapped to attention. His weapons were gone?! He quickly brought up his weapons schematics and saw all his weapons were either removed or offline. He even checked to see if his offensive protocols were alright. Two milliseconds were all he needed to tell him they were disabled behind a medical firewall. Soundwave felt panic inch into his systems. No Decepticon medic would remove weapons from their patients, (the medics liked the challenge) and if the weapons needed to be removed, they wouldn't put offensive protocols behind a medical firewall!

Soundwave wasn't sure that Hook even knew _how_ to make a firewall, let alone _implement _one!!

_What on Cybertron happened?!_

He onlined his optics fully and took in his surroundings.

He was in a fairly spacious, featureless, dull gray room, leaning against the back wall facing the door. The first thing that came to mind about the room was that he knew that this wasn't the Nemesis. The large gigantic warship didn't have a room like it. Even Starscream's little "detention" room wasn't like it. He looked towards the door and felt disappointed that there were no handles on the door, even though the outlines were completely visible and there was a slot for energon and one for optics. There was a chair welded to the floor next to the door. _So a guard could sit in and watch me_, Soundwave thought.

The headache decided that it was time to make itself heard. It pounded harder than ever against Soundwave's CPU and Soundwave groaned lightly. He offlined his optics from the pain and let his head drop into his hands. As he did so, he heard the distinct _chink, chink_ of a chain on metal. Ignoring the headache as best he could, he onlined his optics and looked at his wrists.

A heavy, metal chain encircled each wrist and chains lead behind him. To the back wall, he assumed. Soundwave was about to turn around when the sight of his legs stopped him.

For one thing Soundwave knew that his legs were not supposed to be that slender nor were they to end in a Transformers equivalent of two-and-a-half inch heels. His visored optics traveled up his legs and he got a good look at the rest of himself.

You know, I really think _herself_ would be a more apt term in this situation.

Soundwave could only stare at herself. She didn't scream or make any other signs to describe her surprise and utter horror at her knew body. For a while, she didn't do anything just gaping at the body she inhabited. Her carefully guarded emotions finally burst forth. Unfortunately, panic took the forefront.

And then the screaming began.

She screamed at the top of her vocal processor, real emotion seeping into it for the first time in over 17 million years. It was a light, slightly airy voice that on any other occasion would have been very pleasant to listen to. But right now, she sounded like a Cybertronian banshee who was being tortured. She screamed so loudly and at such a high pitch that Soundwave heard glass shattering around the room. She stopped yelling as several glass shards fell down around her.

_Camera lenses!!_ Her CPU screamed at her, even if she wasn't exactly sure _why_ there would be cameras. _Someone's watching me!!_

Her head spun around the room so fast, looking for the cameras that several of her neck joints squealed in protest at their maltreatment. She didn't care; panic she hadn't felt in over 20 million years finally in control. It made Soundwave question everything. Why the hell was she a femme!? Where in the world was she!?! Just what had happened on the battlefield when she had been knocked out with Megatron and Starscream-?!?

_MEGATRON AND STARSCREAM!!!!_ Thanks to the panic, her mind went into total rant mode. Where were they!?! What had happened to them!?! Why were they not here!!? And for that matter, _where the frag was here!?!!_ Her intakes worked overtime to cool Soundwave's rapidly overheating systems with her panic. Her processor ran at a terabyte a second trying to figure out how he –uh, _she_– was turned into a femme. Several warnings flashed across Soundwave's CPU. The panic lessened as Soundwave quickly read them and coherency and calm took root in one part of her mind.

She had to stop panicking!

_Calm down! _She told herself firmly. Panic still ran rampant though her systems, barely heeding her words. Apparently, firmness wasn't going to work.

_Calm down and think!!_ She yelled at herself, mentally forcing herself to calm before anything to drastic happened. The panic tried again and again to get back in control, but Soundwave was stronger. She mentally forced herself to not think about the body or the situation she was currently in and to quell the panic. The panic, however, wouldn't go without a good explanation for their situation

_It's all a dream!_ She told herself. _It's all a bad dream. Relax, try to wake up, and if that doesn't work, get though this dream and hope the end of it is soon_. Soundwave knew that she was telling herself a complete and utter lie, but the panic bought it. The lies calmed her systems long enough for her to push the panic back and keep it at bay. A minute later, she returned to her previously calm and collected state, the panic a nonexistent annoyance in the farthest reaches of her psyche. She in took air deeply and expelled the heated air to further cool her heated systems.

_Relax…_ she repeated in her mind, _relax._

Now that she was calm, Soundwave was disgusted with herself.

She had allowed her emotions to get the better of her logic and it had cost her dignity and the chance to look at the problem logically. She had caused damage to the room around her and her systems were doing shock recovery. And her energon levels were at 58% capacity. To panic was to waste valuable resources and time. Panicking never helped before, so why should it help now? The last time she had let her emotions get the better of her, nearly the same thing happened.

_Never again_, she (then a he) had told her/himself all those vorns ago, _never again_. She remained still as her mind finished calming.

With the frantic-fest over, Soundwave immediately got down to business (though she was still disgusted with herself).

First things first: Inspection of her new body.

Soundwave ran her hands over herself seeing how her original color scheme and alt. mode were still the same. It was weird to see herself as a femme and even if she didn't change all that much. She saw how her systems had adapted to the sudden change with more curves than edges to still fit her cassette player form. Her hands continued up her head to her helm. It was the same, but as she ran her hands over her face, she realized her facemask was gone! Panic began to try to enter her systems again, but she pushed it away forcefully. Panic hadn't gotten her anywhere (although it did dull the headache considerably) and she quickly calculated the materials and time needed to construct another one.

She didn't have anything to work with and who knew how long she would be in this cell (yes, she knew it was a cell. The chains were a bit of a give-away) and decided to make do without it. She felt horribly exposed and naked without it, but she had no choice in the matter. She figured it was about time she learned to keep a straight face.

Damn, she never was good at that.

Why else would she have a face mask and a visor?

She in took air and expelled it deeply again. The panic that assaulted her earlier retreated to the farthest corners of her psyche and she padlocked them behind a double reinforced, steel and cybertronium door and threw away the key.

Happy now that she wasn't going to die of a panic attack, she quickly began another systems scan, just in case her diagnostics picked up any anomalies with her systems. As the scans did their work, Soundwave's mind drifted and she tapped the window of her compartment. _The cassettes have been quiet…_ She mused as another ping for the all clear sounded, _what are they up to…?_ Allowing her systems to finish, she quickly accessed her links with her cassettes.

Now let me make this perfectly clear so Soundwave doesn't come to your door and kill you for getting it wrong: It wasn't a creator-creation bond.

Even as a male, she had never created any sparklings or asked Vector Sigma for a spark. All of the cassettes were sparks and (in the case of Rumble and Frenzy) actual working mechs who were repurposed and modified for her use. Because of that, she had no sparkbonds with any of them. Instead, their relationship was more symbiotic in nature. She provided protection and a safe home, and the cassettes did as she commanded. True, the cassettes did hook up to her spark to and energon lines for energy while they were inside her chest compartment, so instead of a sparklink, they had a sort of pseudo-half-link of the mind and spark.

A link between her spark and those of the cassettes without the creator-creation aspects of it.

Simple, really.

This half-link worked double as a means of tracking and communicating with her cassettes, instantly giving access to parts of their minds and relay information and/or reports. It had its limitations, for example, Soundwave could only verbally communicate with her cassettes if they were in a two to three mile radius in any given direction, but she could track the presence of her cassettes no matter where they were. Which was exactly what she was doing.

She silently felt through her spark and mind for the six coveted links. She felt the edges of the links through the half-material-reality of a spark's bond and followed each link, sending the feeling of questioning longing over them. It was about halfway through the links when everything went to the pits.

No response.

She never found the other side of the links.

Panic resurfaced from her mind and attacked her systems with renewed vigor. Her intakes worked overtime and she clutched at her chest as Soundwave tried to calm herself before she broke out into a frantic rant again.

It wasn't easy.

It was like a blade had severed through six lifelines. Even though both her mind and spark were telling her to panic and find an immediate way out, she forced herself to remain calm. Panic hadn't helped her before and it certainly wouldn't help now. She reminded herself that there had to be something drastically wrong with her systems if she couldn't feel the cassettes-

_Or maybe they're dead, s_aid a dark voice from a corner of Soundwave's mind.

She ignored it completely.

She forced the panic away from her systems and relaxed against the wall, forcing herself to look at the problems logically.

She evaluated her situation: she was a femme (_but this is all just a dream_, she told herself firmly), her link with her cassettes was gone (_there's a glitch in your systems somewhere_), and she had absolutely no idea where she was, although she was beginning to get a few ideas as to her present location.

Someone chained her to a wall, left her in a dark room, and apparently had the need to watch her constantly (though their machinery had to be beyond fried right now). If it wasn't the Autobots, then she could confirm the existence of her stalkers (not those fan stalkers, those "I-want-you-dead-so-I-can-get-something-from-you" kinds of stalkers). Hopefully, her captors were the former. However she looked around the room, it made more and more sense that the Autobots were holding her captive.

For one thing, she was still alive, and for another, she was pretty sure that the Autobots had little to no protection against a telepath.

To confirm her theory (just in case the Autobots had found a way to stop a telepath) she took a quick mental survey. Her CPU was at full working capacity (sans a few unimportant memory files) and she quickly accessed the corner of her mind that housed her telepathy. No one was entirely sure just _what_ caused a Transformer to gain telepathy. Not even the telepathic Transformers knew exactly what caused it. All they knew is that there was a part of their minds (somewhere in their CPUs) that allowed them to access another Transformer's mind. Some experts (Soundwave snorted every time someone said _experts_) believed that it was a glitch in a functional CPU. And (there's one in every culture) some believe that they were heathens who should be sent back to their masters in the Pit.

Most tuned those fanatics out and ignored them. Said fanatics would then return to their drinks.

Either way, Soundwave's telepathy was useful for gathering information and making sure that no one was lying about the outcome of a bet. Soundwave had earned most of her credits this way.

Soundwave's mental probe (what she called the medium that allowed her access to another's mind) sent a very satisfying _ping_ as it activated_. _Soundwave grinned in smug delight. The Autobots (assuming it was them) could take her weapons, protocols, her mobility, and even her cassettes away, but they could never take her telepathy or her hacking skills. It was almost too easy to access it. Not that she cared, mind you.

She faced the doorway and focused her mind. If anyone was guarding her, they would make a great source of information and maybe they would tell her just what happened to her, and where Megatron and Starscream were. She offlined her optics and send out the mental probe. The probe acted like a sensor that would immediately relay any and all information on the current statuses of the consciousnesses around her. However, the probe encountered nothing. There was no pulsating light that showed an active consciousness. And no consciousness meant no guards which meant no info to steal.

_The Autobots are more cautious than I thought._ She mused. She released the probe which faded into nonexistence and reevaluated the situation. She was trapped in a cell with no immediate means of escape. Her superiors were missing and she was helpless as is.

_What I need is an ally,_ she thought. _If I was taken prisoner, then Megatron and Starscream must be here as well._ She doubted that Megatron or Starscream had been captured by the Autobots. Aside from the fact that Megatron could kick aft like it was nobody's business and Starscream was stubborn beyond belief, neither of them would ever allow themselves to be captured or subdued without several mechs dying in the process. But then again, Soundwave couldn't remember what happened.

And she was a femme. She really needed some answers and just sitting there mulling it all over wasn't going to help in the slightest. She summoned her probe again and aimed it at the wall to her right. She didn't expect to find anything, but going right seemed like a good idea to her. She hoped that Starscream or Megatron were close by.

She could only send the probe fifty meters in any given direction, give or take a foot. She could 'see' consciousnesses up to one hundred meters away, but it would take too much energy to sense a consciousness any farther than that. Communication with a consciousness was limited to fifty meters and contact must be upheld by both parties (the victim whether they want to or not.) If she attempted to contact anyone farther than that, the strain of upholding the contact would immediately send her into stasis lock.

As the probe sent a 'feed' to her mind, she 'saw' the dim outline two consciousnesses: one was at the most forty meters from where she sat, the other eighty meters. Consciousnesses were bright when online and raging emotions made them even brighter, but dimmed with distance and pulsed weakly if a person was in recharge.

The two consciousnesses in front of her were both ends of the spectrum.

The farther one, pulsing weakly, was dimmer than just the usual dimming of consciousnesses from distance and the closer and brighter consciousness pulsated sporadically. Soundwave didn't even need to send her probe closer to know that the brighter one was Starscream. No one else had a mind as hectic as his and the sporadic pulses were practically a dead giveaway. Whenever Soundwave had to inspect his mind (on Megatron's orders, of course), she would always protect herself with mental barriers so that she would not get swept away by the fierce winds that occupied it. Seekers always had turbulent minds, but Starscream's was one of the worst.

The dimmer one in the back either had to be an Autobot or Megatron in recharge. If it was an Autobot, he made a poor guard. If it was Megatron, why he would be in recharge escaped her. Megatron would have woken up first and made every single attempt to escape. Unless the Autobots kept Megatron on heavy sedatives, there was something very wrong here. But since she couldn't as Megatron herself, it was off to Starscream's.

Soundwave ordered her probe to get closer to the seeker's mind. As she drew closer, the pulses of anger and emotion coming from the consciousness buffeted the probe. Soundwave lost control over the probes movements and it accidentally brushed against Starscream's mind. Soundwave came into contact with Starscream's mind before she had even erected her barriers. A loud scream of rage assaulted her mind and she had to stop her physical body from flinching or reacting to the painful bellow. It would make the Autobots suspicious (even if they're cameras were broken).

"_LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU FRAGGERS!!!" _A femme's voice screamed clearly out loud and in her mind.

Soundwave froze as she recognized the voice even if it was distorted by pitch, volume, and gender. _No way…_ she thought. Soundwave pulled back out of the range of the seeker's mind and erected barriers out of habit.

_Starscream's a femme, too!?_ She thought incredulously. She gazed at the seeker's mind dumbfounded. This was unbelievable! Two males suddenly becoming female!? Just what in the world happened!?! Soundwave braced herself and touched Starscream's mind. Soundwave could still hear Starscream ranting though it didn't affect her this time. Starscream's rant went something like this:

"_FRAGGERS!!! WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU!!! I'LL DANCE ON YOUR GRAVES, HANG YOUR HEADS ON MY WALL, AND MELT YOUR SPARKS DOWN FOR SCRAP METAL!!!"_

Well, you get the idea.

Soundwave quickly established a temporary link from her processor to Starscream's and sent a calming wave over it. Starscream had realized too late that someone had entered her mind. Although she was prepared to retaliate with everything she could muster, the calm wave washed over her and her attack diminished to nothing and her rant died in her throat. Soundwave took this opportunity to speak before Starscream became vocal again.

"_Starscream,"_ Soundwave ordered through her telepathy. _"Relax! You are overreacting and I do not think my CPU can take any more of your sonic shrieks." _She wasn't actually speaking, _per say_, but it was as close to speaking as one would get. Starscream jumped in his- uh, _h­er_- cell at the voice.

"_Soundwave!? You're awake!? And alive!?"_ She cried out in her mind, her confusion coming clearly over the connection. Soundwave felt the hurricane-force winds in Starscream's mind change as her emotions did. What used to be random gusts this way and that now was a circular movement, like a tornado. Soundwave mentally sighed and erected another barrier against the turbulent mind.

"_Yes, it's me." _Soundwave replied. "_I woke up not too long ago."_ She paused. "_Why would I be dead?"_ Starscream scoffed in annoyance. Soundwave could just imagine Starscream with her hands on her hips.

"_Well, you weren't moving the last time I saw you,"_ her sarcastic tones coming clearly across the metal probe. _"And it's about fragging time you woke up! You do know that we've been with these slagging Autobots for a full solar cycle, right?"_

Ah ha! So they were with the Autobots! That ruled out stalkers, but it was still just as bad. "_I had a feeling we were with the Autobots, though I couldn't confirm it._" Soundwave said.

"_Well, well, well, look who just got to the party!"_ Starscream said scathingly. Soundwave resisted the urge to give Starscream the worst headache she had ever had. Sometimes it was so annoying to deal with the seeker. Soundwave growled quietly to inform Starscream that her attitude was unwanted. Starscream took the hint and toned down the sarcasm, but still held herself proudly.

"_Starscream,"_ Soundwave said, "_What happened after I fell on you and Megatron on the battlefield?_" She felt Starscream's surprise.

"_You don't remember?_" She asked in astonishment. Soundwave rolled her optics.

"_No, some of my memory files were deleted._" Soundwave prepared to lower her mental barriers. "_Starscream, I am going to enter your consciousness fully, so I can see the situation from your point of view. Lower your mental barriers."_ When the Decepticons first began, Soundwave had taught the Decepticon officers how to shield their minds from outside penetration. She knew that was not the only telepathic Cybertronian and that the Autobots had several telepaths in their midst.

Although there was only one who could go foot-servo to foot-servo with her.

Starscream grumbled over her end of the probe, pretending to ponder the question. Soundwave did the equivalent of tapping her foot against the floor in agitation. How long did it take someone to answer 'yes' or 'no'? Geez… It wasn't like Soundwave couldn't break through Starscream's barriers herself, but that would waste time and energy, both of which she did not have.

"_Fine,"_ Starscream said after a minute. Soundwave felt the mental barriers around Starscream's memories and feelings lower. "_Have at my head!"_ She said sarcastically. Soundwave groaned. She could just see Starscream gesturing like a butler about to provide a meal. Starscream really had a macabre outlook on things didn't she?

Soundwave concentrated on Starscream's memories and 'dived' into the hectic, wind-tossed, wild persona that was Starscream. She was buffeted this way and that by the fierce winds, nearly throwing her off course. Soundwave erected mental barriers around herself so her mind wouldn't be torn apart by the paranoid flier's turbulent mind. She continued on even when the winds increased in intensity.

She 'swam' through Starscream's mind to her memories. She shifted through recent memories and images like she was examining moving photographs. Most were of the sky, Megatron, Starscream's wingmates, and the Decepticons. There were even several memories of the traitor Skyfire in the mess of memories. All in all, the vast majority of it was unimportant drivel of Starscream's daily life.

There were some juicy pieces of blackmail in there, but sadly, this wasn't the time for blackmail.

She continually shifted through the memories until eventually, Soundwave found what she was looking for: The memories of the latest battle until the present.

Soundwave took a proverbial breath, and 'dived' headfirst into the memory. Soundwave took Starscream's role and saw everything through her optics, including all the people, the maneuvers, and the pain. Soundwave couldn't block the emotions that accompanied the memory, but she managed to suppress the thoughts. Soundwave didn't want to know the inside of Starscream's head that much.

Soundwave watched and felt the anger Starscream did as the Autobot Twin Terrors jumped on her back; the satisfaction of watching them fall and hit the ground; Starscream's disappointment at her wing-mates leaving her to help with the energon cubes; the pain as she was shot in the back and hit the ground; and her befuddled mind as she was tangled with Soundwave and Megatron; then the pain as the blast from the Autobot's engineer's weapon hit.

Soundwave watched as Starscream saw herself for the first time as a femme and the screaming match she had with the Autobots. She saw Megatron wake up and be restrained by Prime, then Starscream's desperate attempts as escape as the same tried to be done to her. She felt the indignation and embarrassment as the Aerialbots molested her, then her capture. Soundwave also saw herself being carried by the Autobot saboteur, the heat waves around his faceplates telling her all she needed to know about what he thought of her new form.

Soundwave didn't like the saboteur's look one bit.

Soundwave stopped the flow of memories just as Starscream fell offline in the memory and withdrew herself from the deepest depths of Starscream's mind. Soundwave felt weak as she extracted herself from Starscream's mind, but quickly recovered. She looked at Starscream differently now. She had been (for as fleeting as it was) Starscream. Soundwave didn't need to go through Starscream's mind again to know that the seeker had been panicking and was scared for her life, her wings, and her freedom. Starscream noticed Soundwave's attention focused on her.

"_Is that enough information for you?"_ She said quietly even though it was slightly sarcastic. Soundwave wasn't rocked by hurricane force winds anymore. They were much calmer, the breezes tickling her sensors. Having someone to talk to must have been helping Starscream cope with her confinement. Seekers were an odd bunch.

"_Yes,"_ Soundwave replied, still a little worn out. "_That is enough. I can surmise the situation and the possible outcomes from here._" She paused as her mind went to work. "_The most likely outcomes are not encouraging…"_ She finished. Starscream scoffed, though with less conviction in her voice. Soundwave saw her flop down on the ground, wrap her arms around her knees, and pulled them up to her chest.

"_Yeah, I pretty much got all that." _Starscream sighed dejectedly. "_We're trapped and there's no way out."_

Then she asked the one question that Soundwave couldn't and wouldn't answer even if she had one.

"_So, when do you think the Autobots are going to have us publicly executed?"_

---

**An:** And I think I'll leave it at that!

Now really, did you _honestly think_ that I was going to kill off Soundwave? HA!! You people are ridiculous! I'm not killing off anyone! Like the great narrator of _George of the Jungle_ said: "Don't worry, nobody dies in this story. They just get really big boo-boos!" X)

And more notes: Yes, most of this is based off of _Megatron: Origin_ and my own speculations as to how the Transformers work. And if anyone can find the Transformers: Animated quote, you'll get a basket of energon goodies from me!

Remember: reviews make me a happy firefly and keep the story going! Constructive criticism is loved; flames will be given to Red Alert and Inferno to play with.


	6. Close Encounters of the Femme Kind

**AN**: Hello!! Welcome to the next chapter of GBDS!! I'm really sorry this took so long to get out. Real Life (now forever acronymmed as RL) kicked my butt for the better part of a week and a half, then it took another week and a half with everything going on at school to write the first portion of this chapter, then I finished the rest of it today.

Yeah, so writing will be slow, but apparently wherever I'm writing through Megatron's eyes, I can write everything in one go. :/ What does that say about me?

So, anyway, enjoy **Chapter 6** of Genderbending: Decepticon-Style!!

---

Chapter 6:

Close Encounters of the Femme Kind

Thundercracker walked down the dark purple hallway, his mind not really focused on anything. His thrusters made _click-clack_ sounds with each step. It was the sort of annoying sound that would drive every non-flying mech up the wall. Thundercracker, however, was more preoccupied with the meeting up ahead and the matter at hand.

His comrades were looking to him for leadership.

Thundercracker knew that today would have been a bad day to get out of recharge. Sadly, he didn't listen to his instincts and thus he wound up in his current predicament. Thundercracker's mind and spark raced as the War Room drew closer. There was no way he could or _would_ become leader! Megatron had made sure that there was a strict hierarchy of succession in case of early termination and Thundercracker wasn't next in line!

Hell, he wasn't even in the Top 20!

Thundercracker, hoping to take his mind off things if only for a moment, looked out the large meta-glass windows to his left. The humans' ocean was clear and bright blue, like the sky. Several schools of fish and quite a few sharks swam past the window. He saw some stingrays swim through the water like they were flying through air. Thundercracker sniffed loudly at their presence, an odd habit he'd picked up from watching too many human movies with the others on Holovid/Movie Night (they had run out of good holovids). He would have made a scathing comment about the organics' presence, but decided against it.

Besides, his doom was only an arm's length away.

Thundercracker paused at his choice of words.

_I must be hanging out with Dirge too much. _

Thundercracker stopped outside the double doors of the Main Decepticon War Room. He could hear voices arguing on the other side of it. Thundercracker wilted in spite of his pride.

And they thought _he_ would be to control them all!?

Skywarp had a better chance of getting Starscream (_as a male_, he had to remind himself) to sleep with him than Thundercracker had of controlling those overzealous fraggers!

But either way, Thundercracker squared his shoulders, stiffened his wings in a neutral position, and placed his hand on the sensor to open the door. The doors hissed open and Thundercracker walked in.

The noise level was deafening. All the Decepticons there were arguing with each other over one matter or another. Most were pointing fingers at someone else, swearing loudly, and hilts of weapons gleamed in various hands. It was just short of a battlefield in there. Even so, in all the bedlam someone noticed Thundercracker's arrival. His optics went wide and he quickly whispered to another mech on his left.

Quite suddenly, the whole room was dead quiet, all heads turned towards Thundercracker.

I told you news in the Decepticon ranks spread fast.

Thundercracker just stood there, his face neutral as every optic trained on his person. Thundercracker's derma-plating was crawling again. He really hated their stares. He walked farther into the room and towards his regular seat at these meetings.

Now, once again, you need to know the layout of the room.

The War Room was a large oval room (Shockwave had a thing for ovals) that could hold a good two hundred mechs, standing room only. The metal was purple, like everything else on the Nemesis, and a row of large monitors above a control panel took up the wall opposite the door. The monitors showed various statistics, conditions of the ship's systems, and environmental and planetary information. A long white table took up middle of the room with approximately fifty chairs for the highest officers. In a Decepticon's mind, each chair was labeled with the name and position of whoever was supposed to sit there.

Thundercracker's seat, since he wasn't technically an officer, wasn't a seat so much as a standing spot. His spot was behind and to the left of Starscream's chair, closer to Megatron's throne at the end of the table. Skywarp stood on Starscream's other side and Starscream got the chair.

However, both spots were currently occupied.

By Scrapper and Long Haul.

Thundercracker sniffed in annoyance and marched over to them. They turned to him at his approach, but didn't move. Thundercracker stopped in front of Long Haul (who was in Skywarp's spot). He looked the Constructicon straight in the visor.

"What are you doing in Skywarp's spot?" Thundercracker asked in a neutral tone, "and why are you," he turned to Scrapper, "in mine?"

Both remained silent for a moment, before Scrapper answered first. "Well, Hook sits here and since we're Constructicons…" He left the end of that sentence dangling in the air, acting like the situation would explain itself. Long Haul nodded in agreement.

Thundercracker wanted to smack both of them upside the head.

Instead, he sighed (another Holovid/Movie Night habit) exasperatedly, and said in an annoyed tone, "Hook sits _over there_," he stressed those last two words and pointed to a chair several seats down (which ironically was filled by someone not named Hook), "so what are you doing in _my_ spot?"

The two Constructicons glanced at each other silent words passing between them. Thundercracker noticed the human gesture and sniffed in annoyance. _Maybe we are watching too many human movies… Damn. I like _Terminator_._ Thundercracker thought. Anyway, the Constructicon soldiers squared their shoulders and stood their ground.

"Hook sits here now," Long Haul said, filling in the gap in the conversation, "though I want it to be somewhere farther along the table, Hook said he sits here!" The Constructicon's defensive tone and posture made Thundercracker suspect that something even worse than his candidacy for leadership had just arisen. Thundercracker's optics narrowed.

"So then tell me," he said in a strained, though civil, tone, "where do I stand at these meetings since Hook so kindly told me that you all wanted to see me!?" The room was deathly quiet. It wasn't the scared quiet either. It was more of the bated breath quiet. Long Haul's and Scrapper's shifted posture so now they practically radiated the "I-know-something-that-you-don't!" feeling, complete with the annoying sing-song voice.

"Why, TC–" Scrapper said in voice reminiscent of a mother talking to a stubborn child. Thundercracker flinched internally at 'TC'. Only his wingmates were allowed to call him by his nickname (Skywarp because no one could shut him up and Starscream because he– uh, she was the trine leader), "–didn't you know that you'll _sit_ _here_ from now on?" Thundercracker caught the words, _sit here_. It wasn't reassuring.

Scrapper indicated the large throne at to the left of Starscream's chair.

_Megatron's_ throne…

Thundercracker's spark sank to rest somewhere in the region of his energon tank.

The whole room watched as the seeker didn't move. The only indication that Thundercracker was even paying attention was that his wings were held nearly vertical now and quivered slightly. Thundercracker's face darkened and he unobtrusively flashed one ivory fang. The Constructicons' own faces darkened, though not as much as TC's and they crossed their arms over their chest. Everyone watched as Thundercracker and the two Constructicons stared each other down.

"That's Megatron's throne," Thundercracker said in a quiet and calm voice that masked the burning anger inside him. Thundercracker's normally russet optics brightened to a deep, blood red. If the Constructicons noticed (which I doubt, by the way), they didn't say anything. Scrapper spoke up.

"Megatron is not here." His voice was also neutral, feigning politeness. He turned towards the table, ignoring Thundercracker's deathly glare. A small, smug smile spread across Scrapper's face (say _that_ three times fast). "So why don't you just take it? It's the only seat left in the room and the seekers have to be represented somehow."

The crowd stood stock still as the challenge was issued. The tension on the air grew like a weed, spreading rapidly and infecting everything it touched.

Thundercracker wanted to kill the Constructicons in front of him. He could do it, too! A well placed sonic boom here, a high-pitched harmonic resonance there, and they would crack and fall apart as the molecules in their armor weakened and the bonds connecting said molecules broke. It would be so easy…But Thundercracker rose above the urge.

This wasn't the time to murder people.

_Maybe while they're recharging..._

"Megatron is still online." Thundercracker said in a clipped tone. If Thundercracker's wings could be anymore vertical, they would be! He was very apprehensive about the proceedings and where they were heading. How could he possibly lead them, especially if Thundercracker was having an argument over _seating_ arrangements! "And you know as well as I do," Thundercracker continued, "that Megatron doesn't allow anyone other than himself–"

"Herself!"

Thundercracker paused as someone in the back shouted that last word. He looked back at the crowd, looking for the speaker. No one stepped forward.

"Okay…" Thundercracker said, annoyed at being corrected, "_Herself_– to sit on that throne. I personally want to live to see the day after Megatron returns, thank you!"

Thundercracker was expecting the subject to be dropped now that he had made his point known. After all, no one was stupid enough to piss off Megatron and the ones that did piss off Megatron usually did it to themselves. No one wanted to be on Megatron's bad side. That was reserved for Autobots and Starscream. And since Thundercracker had a generally good relationship with the Constructicons, he hoped both of the Constructicons would leave and go to their own spot.

Long Haul and Scrapper didn't move one iota.

"Who said we had to tell Megatron anything?" Scrapper said, his head tilting slightly to one side. His tone of voice suggested that the Constructicon was talking to someone slow and unreasonable. Thundercracker's fists clenched as his rarely seen anger rose closer and closer to the surface. The entire congregation held its breath as the seeker and the Constructicons stared each other down.

Thundercracker's optics narrowed and his weight shifted to his thrusters and held one arm a little farther back than normal. The Constructicons tensed and the soft sound of hydraulics hissing in anticipation permeated the room. None of the combatants noticed the crowd around them slowly shift into a circle, giving them enough room to fight.

Thundercracker's optics were now a bright blood red and the Constructicons' visors were a bright crimson.

It was going to be a showdown.

Bets were placed immediately.

Most of the money was on TC.

Tells you a lot about their expectations, doesn't it?

Tensions increased as each waited for the other to make the first move. The surrounding crowd held their proverbial breaths and no one moved.

_One…_

Thundercracker's harmonics began to vibrate. Atoms in the air and on the frames of the surrounding mechs shuddered in sync with the rumbling harmonics.

_Two…_

Each Constructicon inconspicuously leaned back slightly and were ready to activate their subspace pockets at a moment's notice.

_Thr_—

"JUST WHAT THE FRAGGING PIT ARE YOU IDIOTS DOING!!?!?!!?!?"

Thundercracker, Long Haul, and Scrapper all jumped back in surprise as a familiar _Skeeruuuuu-FONK_ sounded and suddenly, Skywarp, Hook, Onslaught, the Stunticons, and the rest of the Combaticons appeared in the middle of room. Skywarp stood in the middle with everyone's hands on his shoulders and wings. It was obvious from the faraway look on the teleporting seeker's face he liked having his wings touched. Everyone else, however, was a little worse for wear.

Onslaught (the poor mech) was quaking and he slumped against Skywarp's wings. Skywarp straightened as the pressure on his wings intensified, a wide, stupefied, happy grin spreading across his features. Onslaught used Skywarp's wings as a support to haul himself back onto his shaking feet.

"Ugh," he groaned, "I _hate_ teleportation…!" The large mech's visor dimmed to a dark red wine color and he suddenly slapped a hand to his facemask out of reflex as he started to dry heave. The other Combaticons were too busy running to the nearest waste receptacle to purge their own tanks to worry about their leader. The Stunticons were right behind them.

Skywarp watched them go, shaking his head slightly. "Amateurs…" He said to no one in particular.

Hook stood closest to Skywarp with a hand on the seeker's right shoulder. The medic was shaken, but he was made of sterner metal than the others (whether figuratively or literally, no one was entirely sure). A large scowl occupied the lower half of his face and his other hand was clenched in to a fist. He let go of Skywarp's shoulder and marched over to the still-battle-ready Constructicons and seeker.

The Decepticon medic was pissed.

Imagine what happens when Ratchet goes on a rampage and you'll get something pretty close to the Decepticons' situation.

"I'll ask again," The medic said in a dangerous voice, "What. The frag. Were you idiots. THINKING!?!" No one was entirely sure just who the medic was talking to, since he didn't specify which idiots he was talking to. The two Constructicons shifted uneasily under Hook's scrutinizing glare. Thundercracker, though slightly intimidated, stood his ground. He saw Hook's optics narrow behind the visor and his scowl deepened.

"YOU!!" Hook suddenly barked at Thundercracker, who jumped on reflex, "What's going on!? I thought this meeting was supposed to have started when I sent you up here!" Thundercracker regained his composure.

"Well for one thing, Hook," Thundercracker began, "do you mind telling me why your men are standing in my spot? I was under the impression that the Constructicons sat a little farther down the table." Thundercracker's optics had once again dimmed to a calm russet and he regarded the medic coolly.

Thundercracker expected (hoped) that Hook would tell his men to move so he and Skywarp could take their respective places beside Starscream's chair so they could get on with their lives. What Thundercracker was not expecting was to be slapped upside the head by said medic. Thundercracker's head rang with the force of the blow and his vision went fuzzy for a moment as his optics recalibrated.

"You stupid idiot!" Hook shouted. "You sit there!"

And he indicated Megatron's throne.

The room was still deathly quiet again (except for the Combaticons and Stunticons' dry heaves) as Thundercracker regarded Hook with cold optics. Hook, not intending to be outdone by some uppity seeker, stood his ground and returned Thundercracker's icy glare with a heated one of his own. This battle was a battle of wills, not weapons. Thank goodness…

"I am _not_ sitting on Megatron's throne." Thundercracker said, stressing each word. "Megatron sits there." His tone suggested that that last statement was enough of a reason for him to not take the throne. Besides, who would argue with that? Megatron was Megatron no matter what gender or what situation he had landed himself (and Starscream) in. Hook's optics narrowed behind his visor and it looked like Thundercracker had won.

"Megatron might not make it back."

Thundercracker staggered and several of the surrounding Decepticons began whispering as though Hook had just blasphemed against Primus himself.

Hook regarded the sonic seeker calmly. "Honestly, think about it," Hook continued, "Megatron and Starscream are currently being held hostage by the Autobots and I don't think the femme situation is helping their case in the slightest." Hook tilted his head and held his hand up as Thundercracker opened his mouth. "Seriously, do you _honestly_ think that the Autobots won't try to press their advantage? We would do the same if we had Optimus Prime and his highest officer in our midst."

Thundercracker's shoulders slumped. He bit his lower lip component with one sharp fang. _Ugh, Hook's right… _Thundercracker thought. _There's no way the Autobots wouldn't press the advantage!! Dammit!_ He shouted in his mind. _It's not my place to take the throne!! Everyone knows who the next 'Con in line is!!_ Even in his defeated pose, he looked defiantly back at the Constructicon medic. He had another idea. Hook regarded him coolly.

"So, say for one minute I'll take the Decepticon throne," Thundercracker began, "and Megatron and Starscream don't make it back. What would happen if word got back to Cybertron and the _real_ heir to the throne decided to take power? Hmm? What then?"

Hook shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever you decide!" He said, flopped down into the chair, and swiveled around to look at Thundercracker, Long Haul and Scrapper on either side of him. "If you want to give up power, then give it up. If you want to keep the power, then you'll have fight for it." Hook's intertwined his fingers and regarded Thundercracker coolly. Hook swiveled his chair again back to the table.

"So Thundercracker," Hook said in a business-like and falsely cheerful tone, "please take your seat! We have a lot to discuss."

Thundercracker was about to protest again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Thundercracker looked over his shoulder and saw Skywarp standing there. Normally, Thundercracker would have shrugged off Skywarp, but something his wingmate's face made Thundercracker pause.

"Come on, TC," Skywarp said quietly, unusually serious, and grip on Thundercracker's shoulder increased, "just take the seat. I don't think you'll get killed for sitting in a chair."

Thundercracker scoffed. "That's what I'm afraid of…" He whispered. Skywarp frowned and he grabbed Thundercracker's arm.

"Come on," Skywarp said, tugging slightly on Thundercracker's arm, "it's only a seat. And we need to get this meeting out of the way." Thundercracker regarded his wingmate. Worry and knowledge shone in Skywarp's crimson optics. Skywarp knew more than he was telling.

"How do you know what will happen at this meeting?" He said coolly, though not unkindly. Skywarp's expression changed from serious to surprise faster than Thundercracker's sonic booms, and then returned to serious again.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" Skywarp said, with a small smile. Thundercracker narrowed his optics and an annoyed frown fell across his features. "Well…" Skywarp continued, obviously avoiding answering directly. "Let's just say… that Hook and I had a long talk while you were out cold." He shivered, as though remembering something horrible. "And I had to swear a blood-oath not to say 'I knew Starscream was a woman' on pain of death/dismemberment/disembowelment/quite-a-few-other-_dis_'s/and-other-things-better-not-mentioned-in-public-company."

Thundercracker though it best _not_ to ask.

Skywarp tugged more insistently on Thundercracker's arm. "Seriously, TC, come on! We– _I_ need you to stop being so pig-headed."

_I swear, _Thundercracker thought. _We have been watching too many movies…_ He reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged towards the large, black throne. Thundercracker had to resist the urge to dig his heels into the ground. Both he and Thundercracker mounted the slightly raised pedestal that throne rested on. Thundercracker nervously sat down in the large throne. He shifted and twitched as his wings couldn't find a comfortable position.

Megatron's throne stood at the very end of the table in front of a large Decepticon sigil embossed into the purple metal wall behind it. The throne itself was simple black metal with several intricate designs that couldn't be described correctly in human terms. Several Cybertronian words spiraled across it, though most had been burned away or crossed out. The only legible ones read _war_, _strength_, and (excuse my rough translation) _One who Brings Order_. That last one actually means someone bringing order by extreme and violent methods, not by peace talks and Kum-Ba-Ya's.

I mean, seriously, why would the Decepticons have a throne with _Peace_ written all over it?

There were rumors that the throne was made of Sentinel Prime's external super-armor. Megatron took it when the previous Prime tried to quell the Decepticon uprising in Kaon. Megatron had murdered the Prime in front of his whole army, took the armor, had to fashioned into a throne (courtesy of Soundwave), and made it into a monument of his power and the name 'Decepticon.'

Pretty impressive for '_just_ a chair', right?

After all, it was just a place you sat in! At least, that's what Skywarp thought.

Thundercracker, however, understood its metaphysical meaning and didn't want to sit in the body parts of an old departed Prime! The throne was creepy enough as is.

But Thundercracker reluctantly settled down in it, leaning forward slightly, his elbows on the table to give his wings enough room. Skywarp stood just behind Thundercracker on the right, an unofficial second in command's spot. Since Skywarp _was_ Thundercracker's wingmate, he had every right to stand where he wished and nobody bothered to complain.

Onslaught, finally done expelling the contents of his energon tank, though still a little woozy from the teleportation sat down in Soundwave's old seat. The rest of the nauseous Combaticons stood behind him in their own various hierarchy positions. The Stunticons were still expelling everything in their tanks over at the waste receptacle in the corner. They were quickly shoved out the door by the other 60+ officers and subordinates in the room.

With that, everyone settled back into their seats/spots and silence fell over the room, all optics turning to Thundercracker, Hook, and Onslaught. The unofficial successors to Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave respectively.

And Hook wasn't going to be as bitchy as Starscream.

Bonus!

With everything in order, everyone in their proper places (though TC sulked a little) Hook stood up and addressed the table.

"Let this meeting commence!" Hook said in a no-nonsense, fully business tone. He glanced around the table and passed out data pads to every officer, the data pads concerning everything from information on Megatron's disappearance, to what the weather was like on the surface, and everything in between.

When he was finished, Hook sat down, but still commanded the attention of everyone present.

"First order of business," he said, professionally. "Do we or do we not contact Cybertron and inform them (and subsequently, the _real_ heir to the throne) about Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave?"

---

"Soundwave is awake."

…

"Damn it…"

"Couldn'ta put it betta' mahself, Prahm."

"Oh, terrific… Just what I need: a _conscious_, enemy telepath!"

"Speaking of, Ratchet, do you think you could–?"

"No, I fragging well can't, Prowl! We all ready talked about this when we brought them in! I don't have the supplies or the resources to keep her under! Besides, the Decepticons have a very sophisticated anti-sedative system. And, no, Ironhide, you may _not_ bash all their helms in to keep them unconscious."

"Ahw, if yer gonna' take all the fun outta it!"

"Shut up, Ironhide. So we'll need to add extra means of surveillance–"

"Leave that to me. But seriously, all we need is to put someone inside the room to physically guard them. Even though the Twins will have all the material they need for a vorn's supply of stalking jokes."

"A guard system is not a bad idea, Red Alert. I will set us a roster. However, since guarding Soundwave requires proficiency in mental defense, no one will be in the room with her."

"You know, maybe–!"

"He already said no, Jazz."

"Well, that sucks! Which reminds me, why isn't he here?"

"Communications duty."

"Who's makin' the long distahnce cahlls?"

"Hoist's team is reporting back from Cybertron."

"Oh… Well, then he's stuck. Grapple and Hoist will be talking well into the night."

"Thank you for the information, Jazz. I'll have to reschedule my meeting with him."

"You're welcome, Prowl."

"Red Alert, Jazz and I will take first guard shift until Prowl has a proper roster set up."

"Yes, sir! But Prime, who will you…?"

"I will guard Megatron, Jazz will guard Starscream."

"REALLY!? WOOHOO!!"

"Shut up, Jazz."

"Uh… Sorry, Prime… I swear I won't do anything!!"

"I wonder about you sometimes…"

"Most people do, Ratch."

"Alright, that gives me a basis for the roster. Perceptor, has your research found any explanation as to their… condition?"

"I am sorry to say, Prowl, I do not. This mystery has confounded me. From my given information and Wheeljack's notes–"

"I didn't know Wheeljack actually had neat handwriting! But that data pad's still covered in soot…"

"Once again: Shut up, Jazz."

"Sorry, Prime."

"Please continue, Perceptor."

"Thank you, Prowl. From my given information and Wheeljack's notes, the fusion blaster is not capable of causing such a predicament. It is simply a more powerful version of our everyday blasters, with slight modifications added from Weapons Intelligence on Cybertron."

"So… it's just a big gun?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"Well, pardon my inclination towards informing my comrades of pertinent information, Red Alert"

"Sorry, Perceptor."

"Apology accepted."

"Moving on… Would you like Ratchet's help in your research Perceptor? If you do not mind, Ratchet."

"I don't mind, but if I'm going to be of any help, I'm going to have to perform more extensive examinations. As in getting at least one of them in my Med-Bay for study and tests in the foreseeable future."

"Very well, Ratchet, I'll see what we can do. Red Alert, I'll trust you with security and protection if any of them have to be let out."

"Very well, we'll see what I can't come up with, eh?"

"And Perceptor, Ironhide can provide more extensive knowledge of weapons and Skids could probably help with the theory making. Skyfire might also be an option."

"…"

"Perceptor?"

"… I sought to circumvent concerning Skyfire with this issue…"

"You don't trust him?"

"No, Prime, it is just… Starscream was his best friend. This may not be the best project for him to be on…"

"Ask him. See what he says."

"Very well, Prime."

"Prowl, Prahm, I can take secon' shift guardin' Megahtron."

"Thank you, Ironhide."

"And I'm going to need Ironhide as protection when I bring one of them out."

"'Hide?"

"I hav' no problem with it, Prahm."

"Very well. If no one has anything else to add…?"

"Nope!"

"Nah uh."

"I'm good."

"I do not have any further inquiries."

"I have enough information to make the roster and to take other measures."

"Very well, meeting adjourned. Jazz, let's go."

"YAY!! GUARD DUTY!!!"

---

"Okay, okay…"

_Click, clack_

"One…"

_Click, clack_

"Two…"

_Click, clack_

"Three…"

_Click…_

"Fou– AAAHHH!!!!"

_**CRASH!!!**_

"Damn it!!"

Megatron was lying on her side after falling for the umpteenth time in four hours. She was covered from head to heeled foot with dents and scratched paint. She looked a mess and the angry glower on her face didn't help. _Damn heels!!_ She shouted in her mind._ I'm going to slag those things if it's the last thing I do!!_

But there was no use in crying over spilled energon, so with a grunt, Megatron hauled herself shakily to her feet.

She mastered the delicate and refined art of standing still on two-inch high heels, without looking like a fool, about forty-five minutes after her initial fall. Since then, she had been working on walking around without falling. She was up to three steps.

Hey, it was progress!

The only reward for her efforts (aside from actually being prepared to run if needed) was the standard size energon cube. It just sat there, fifteen feet from the door, practically _begging_ to be eaten…! And who was Megatron to deny it?

Now, if only she could get there.

Her legs stopped shaking and she stood tall and still for a few seconds, checking and rechecking her footing so her balance wouldn't shift again. When it was clear Megatron had found her balance, she carefully raised one foot and shifted her weight and balance to her other leg. She made sure to balance out the amount of force directed to her heel and the bottom of her foot. She took that one step and shifted her weight again, so that she was balanced again.

Remembering not to get too cocky this time, she lifted her back foot and tentatively took another step, once again checking her balance. _Two steps down…_ She thought, for once without any snappy, random remark from her processor. Megatron was paying far too much attention to her balance to notice that small fact.

_Okay… Here we go…_ She repeated her balance process again and took the third step. Megatron felt a sliver of pride enter her spark.

She was getting somewhere!!

Unfortunately, this was where it got hard.

The trailing chains had been another one of the reasons Megatron had tripped so much. The stupid things would snag around her feet and her heels, thus causing her to fall. So for the first three steps, it had been from where she had last fallen to the back wall. She had moved the chains out of the way earlier and it gave her enough space to practice. Also, if she fell she could catch herself on the wall and start again.

Much easier than falling on her dinged and dented aft again and again, right?

Megatron turned around and leaned against the back wall. Her optics zeroed in on the energon cube waiting for her. She took one slow step forward…

And didn't fall.

Megatron grinned in spite of herself and felt her confidence rise. _Ha! Yes! There's nothing I can't do!! Nothing can beat me! Nothing!! Not even a femme's body and its accursed high heels!!_ Her massive ego was doing a victory dance. Emboldened and her anger slowly dissipating into pride, she took another step forward.

And another.

And another.

And another!! Not falling or losing her balance once!!

She grinned madly now at her success. _Screw the Autobots and their cameras_, Megatron thought. _I don't care!! I beat them!!_

Okay, so _maybe_ her massive ego was going a bit overboard… Aw, who cared? Not Megatron!

With only twenty feet between her and the cube, she increased her speed to a moderate walk. The cube drew closer and closer… Her energon tank rumbled and sent her another report on how much energy she had left. The dull pain in her tank distracted her slightly, but she didn't stop.

Finally, she was six feet from the cube! Megatron bent down easily, reached out to grab it–!!

And the chain pulled taut.

_**EH!?!!?**_

She pulled her hand back and tried again. Once again, the chain pulled taut, preventing her from grabbing the cube only five feet from where the chains stopped.

"YOU HAVE **GOT** TO BE KIDDING ME!!!" She roared. She tugged on the chains trying to reach for the cube but none of them would go any farther than forty feet. She continued tugging, hoping that by leaning forward and having her legs behind her in a very precarious position the chains would give just a little, at least!!

Megatron pulled and tugged, screaming obscenities at the ceiling, floor, and walls. This close!! She was _this_ close and she still couldn't get to the stupid energon cube!! Did they like torturing her!? She continued to pull forward, the collar pressing into sensitive neck wires and her vocal processor sent warning messages about being crushed by something big and heavy.

And as if Karma wanted to add insult to injury, her feet then slipped out from under her and she landed hard on the floor face down on the floor. She cried out as she hit the floor, but sat up quickly and fought against her restraints. Megatron thrashed and pulled at the chains with her claws and even her fangs as one point. However, she only managed to dent herself some more and she had a new set of scratches.

Megatron would have continued in this manner until she fell offline from exhaustion, but an odd mechanical beeping behind her made her freeze.

She spun around quickly as the door slid back and bright, white light spilled into the dark room.

The light assaulted her optics and Megatron cried out as the light burned her optics, which had been on oversensitive mode to make up for the lack of light in the room. She clutched at her face as the pain continued to rebound between her processor and optics then back again. Her only reprieve came when a large shadow fell across the doorway.

Megatron peered through one malfunctioning optic and saw the distorted outline of Optimus Prime.

"Oh, damn…" she muttered into her hands. "Not you…" If Prime heard her, he gave no indication that he had or replied. He walked into the room, his shadow talking up most of the doorway, before the door automatically shut behind him with a satisfied beeping as the room locked itself.

Megatron took her hands away from her face when the light intensity of the cell had returned to normal. Prime knelt down before her. In response, she glared menacingly at the Prime, flashing her fangs in warning. Prime's optics were unreadable and the face mask didn't help.

"What do you want Prime?" She hissed at him. She surreptitiously scooted back from Prime's larger form. There was something about him being that close to her that made her systems heat up and a sense of fear filled her spark.

"I'm on guard duty," he said simply, as though he was commenting on the weather. He reached down and picked up the little energon cube that had tormented Megatron for the better part of five hours.

He held out the energon cube to Megatron. Her optics darted between Prime's face and the energon cube. She wanted that energon cube very badly (her energon tank egging her on), but her survival instincts said "Stay as far away from Prime as possible in your (I'm sorry to say) weakened state."

Megatron really hated her instincts for insulting her, but agreed whole-heartedly with it.

However, her energon tank made its displeasure known by growling rather loudly, the growling sound coming from the motors that processed the energon hitting against the side of her tank, thus causing the pain.

She slowly reached forward with one hand, then snatched the cube out of Prime's slack grip, and scooted all the way back to her 'private' corner on the back wall. Prime stood up and sat down in the chair next to the door.

Megatron downed the entire cube in three quick, but deep gulps. She sighed contentedly as the energy rushed through her systems and the pain in her tank stopped. She looked towards Prime, her eyes narrowing in paranoia.

Prime was sitting sideways in the chair, his back against the wall. He sat lazily in the chair, his optics dimmed, almost as if he was in recharge. She sniffed (a habit she had picked up from watching too many human movies with the other Decepticons) at Prime's inattentiveness. Out of spite, Megatron threw the energon cube at Prime's head.

She wanted it to bounce off his head or better yet, break on impact.

However, her hopes were dashed when Prime caught it with a lazy flick of his wrist. His optics brightened and he turned his attention to her.

"Finished already?" he asked as he put the cube down beside the chair.

Why was it that the Prime's very _presence_ irritated her to no end!? His calm tone, his relaxed posture, his indifference bordering on boredom, all just annoyed her. She looked back at Prime. He was back in his relaxed pose, though this time his optics weren't dim and were trained on her. This time she could read the expression in his optics. It was a cold intensity that made her spine stiffen on reflex.

Like prey caught in a predator's trap.

She hated to feel helpless and this was just grating against her nerves.

"Will you stop staring at me?" Megatron blurted out. She had no idea what made her say it, but she did. Prime's optics widened momentarily, and then shifted to unreadable. Megatron (because she had no idea why she was doing this, it just happened) tilted her head, like a quizzical child. Her optics narrowed as Prime seemed to consider the question.

"Funny, I hadn't realized." He said nonchalantly, still acting as though they were talking about the weather. There was something in his tone that made Megatron feel like he was dismissing her. _Fragger…_ she growled internally. But Prime stopped staring at her and leaned against the wall again.

Megatron shuffled into her corner and kept her optics on Prime's form, just in case.

Just because she didn't like to be stared at by him, didn't make the feeling mutual.

As the minutes ticked by, the intensity of her gaze didn't falter. But Prime didn't do anything for half an hour straight. Megatron was beginning to think that the fragger had fallen into recharge, but a sudden movement disproved her theory. Prime brought a hand up to his audio and pressed something. A familiar blank expression crossed his face (though it was almost impossible to tell from before) and spoke into a microphone somewhere on his helm.

"Very well, Red Alert, if it's security protocol." And removed his hand from his audio. Megatron, tensing as she did so, watched Prime pull his large blaster from a subspace pocket. She tensed instantly as he laid the gun across his lap, a tight grip on it with the barrel _pointed. At. Her._

Prime looked up at Megatron, most likely out of curiosity, and saw how tense she was. Megatron's optics darted around the room, but Megatron made sure they always ended on Prime's face.

_Damn, damn, damn, damn…_ She chanted in her head like a mantra. Prime had his gun out– _Prime has his gun out!!_ Her mind was going into panic mode and she needed to think fast. She was so vulnerable in this corner, it stopped being funny millennia ago. If Prime was going to kill her now, then she'd have to move and a corner was no place to be when shot at. She needed more room to dodge if necessary. Out in the middle of the room was a good idea, but she definitely did not want to get closer to Prime!

She crawled from her corner to the center of the back wall surrounded by the chains dragging all over the floor. Here was as good a place as any: she could still keep her optics on Prime and she had more room to maneuver in case of imminent danger. Just because Prime was a noble fragger, didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

As she had found out the hard way several times before.

Prime kept his blue optics on her all the time. It made her tense even more. _Is he sizing me up? Is he taking aim and checking all possibilities for my escape routes?!_ These thoughts haunted her mind and her systems began to overheat from the stress.

_Damn it…_ she though as her intake cycles kicked up a notch. Why was she freaking out!? Was it because she knew he could kill her with little to no effort in this form? Or was it because she was sure that Prime was here to execute her for war crimes?

Or was it because she was going insane and her imagination was overreacting!?

Either way, Prime (_the stupid fragger_, Megatron thought) got up from his chair and walked over to her, worry evident in his features. The gun was held tightly in his hands, though not at the ready. Megatron pressed herself into the wall as Prime came closer. He knelt down in front of her.

"Is there something wrong with your systems?" He said, just a hint of worry in his tone.

This was so unexpected to her, that her arms slipped out from under her and she fell forward her chin hitting the floor, denting the metal. _What is it with me and hitting floors!?!_ She screamed internally. She was about to push herself up, when a hand descended on her shoulder.

Panic taking over she spun around so fast, that Prime almost didn't see it coming, but was too slow to dodge it. Megatron's claws dug into the metal of his chin and sliced through the metal. There was a terrible screeching sound as Megatron tore off Prime's face plate.

Prime staggered backwards, his head down, one hand over the lower half of his face. Megatron panted to cool her stressed systems and saw the shredded metal in her hands. A sense of triumph and fear filled her as she held the face-mask in her clawed hand. She would finally see what was under that mask, but also it meant that she was still powerful.

Maybe not as much as she could be at the moment, but definitely an improvement.

Megatron looked back at Prime's crouched form, a sinister grin spread across her features. _Come on, Prime_… she thought internally (not wanting to provoke the Prime more than necessary. Hey he still had his gun in one hand). _Show me what you really look like under this thing…_ True, she didn't plan for this, but wasn't complaining.

A _plish, plosh_ sound reverberated around the room. Energon blood seeped between Prime's fingers and dripped to the floor. He looked up and his intense blue optics met her blood red ones. Fear stabbed her spark as they locked optics, but she defeated the urge to flinch. She still had her pride.

Prime slowly took his energon stained hands away from his face and stood up.

Megatron suddenly felt very small.

But she got a good look at his face, and her spark nearly stopped.

Prime's face was almost exactly like what everyone had thought it looked like: High cheek structures; near perfect nose; optics (even though everyone saw them) that reflected beautiful off derma plating; the four deep scratches on his face that didn't damage his image, but perfected it, giving a hard look that complemented his other features; a mouth that looked inviting, perfectly structured and set... Far too handsome to be real… Too perfect…

But here he was, in his glory. She wanted to touch that face for herself, feel every curve, touch what few people saw, feel his lips on hers…

_Kiss _him as he kissed her_…_

_WHAT THE FRAGGIN PITS!?!!?_ Megatron screeched internally, tearing her optics from his face, panting because her systems overheated again. _WHERE IN THE PIT DID THAT COME FROM!?!?_

She curled into a ball, held a hand to her face to calm herself, and felt heat rising off it in waves. If she had been human, her face would have been bright red. She clutched the remnants of his face-mask tightly, as though crushing it would somehow make this entire situation go away. Megatron shuddered as she tried to bring these ridiculous, unknown emotions under control, find out how she was so good at the poetic descriptions, and why she suddenly felt like she wanted nothing more than to be as close as possible to the Prime.

Her worst enemy…

Having this effect on her…

It shouldn't have happened, it shouldn't _be_ happening!! It was like breaking a sacred taboo, placed on them for the protection of all…

Prime stood up and wiped the energon off his face. Megatron peered out from her protective ball and watched the Prime closely. She watched him, her spark skipping pulses every time she looked at his face. _He is just too… too…_ She couldn't find a word in any of the human languages or even the Cybertronian one that properly described Prime.

Prime raised a hand to his audio and pressed a button. "Optimus Prime to Ratchet." He said as he walked back to the other side of the room, not sparing the cowering femme one glance, for which Megatron was both grateful for and severely disappointed about.

"I'm heading to the Med-Bay for repairs, Ratchet. Could you-?" He was about to say something when he flinched as the Autobot's medic obvious went to panic mode from Prime's speech. "No, Ratchet!! I'm fine and Megatron is…" Prime paused and looked over his shoulder.

Megatron flinched.

"She's quiet." He finished. "I just need you to make me another face-mask, because the one I no longer have is broken beyond repair." The Autobot's medic said something else, from the way that Prime's posture relaxed some more. There were a few more words exchanged, none of which Megatron bothered to listen to.

During the exchange, Megatron had crawled back to her corner, utterly mortified and still trying to reign in the emotions that escaped her. _What happened…?_ She thought tiredly and for some reason, a little sadly. This had to be the only time Megatron had felt this much emotion in…

How long had it been since she killed Cy-kill?

24 million years?

More?

"Oh, and Ratchet," Prime said again. Megatron looked up when she felt the Prime's optics on her downturned face. Prime's optics were guarded, and Megatron felt the fear in hers. Prime had to have seen the emotion in her optics. Something like sadness flitted across Prime's optics for a split second. Megatron ducked her head. "Tell Ironhide to come down to the detention cell block. I believe the shift has changed."

He inputted some code into a hidden panel in the wall. Megatron only knew about the panel because she heard the buttons beep as Prime pressed them. The door opened and Prime walked out, leaving Megatron behind with her fluctuating, complicated emotions.

---

**AN:** Okay, I know that Soundwave and Megatron are acting OOC. There is a reason for this and the OOCness won't last long. I have method to madness. Now whether or not you see my method, it's up to you, okay? Okay.

On a less serious note: Please review! I love hearing what you think of my stories and the poll in my profile is now officially closed. To those who chose the answer 'Why in the world are you asking this?' it was a poll to see if a genderbended couple is considered slash. And the majority vote is:

No! Therefore, there will be no slash warning added to this story! :D

Thank you, and see you in the next chapter: Birds of a Feather Flock Together.


	7. Birds of a Feather Flock Together Part 1

**AN:** Hello! Happy summer to you all!! School is out, my home state is hot, and I have another chapter of GBDS. And, oh… my… gosh… This was so hard to write, I don't think I can describe it and do it justice. I wanted to get this out before May, but look! It's already the 13 of June!! First I'm stuck with Finals (4.00 GPA for the year, by the way) and then Decepticons just would not cooperate. But the first half of this chapter is finished and the second should come along when Starscream stops ranting.

And this fic will soon be betaed by none other than , author of the _Deux Claret_ series here on Fanfiction!!! XD *is having a fangirl moment because one of the best authors on the site will soon beta her fic*

And many, many thanks go to Regrem_Erutaerc (Regreme on DeviantART) for helping me with ironing out details for GBDS, and to my reviewers and readers!! Y'all rock!!

**EDIT!!:** With help from Regrem_Erutaerc, Hook's argument should flow more smoothly now.

**EDIT #2!!**: This chapter has been beta-ed and edited by BlackwingRose. She has my utmost sincere thanks. To the reader, you might want to read it again.

---

Chapter 7

Birds of a Feather Flock Together Part 1

Thundercracker slumped over in his chair, his chin propped up by one hand. His wings ached, his legs were telling him (very loudly and using the worst language they knew) about how Megatron had never designed his throne for a seeker, and his audio receptors were about to go offline if the noise level didn't go down that instant.

Luckily, Skywarp was there to keep him sane. And by _sane_, I mean discreetly kicking him in the shin under the table so he wouldn't lose his cool.

You'd think it'd be the other way around, wouldn't you?

Either way, Thundercracker's internal suffering was nothing next to the bedlam of the room. What had started out as a professionally handled meeting quickly dissolved into a shouting match, with lots of cursing, threats, and plenty of weapons appearing in hands. I'm pretty sure that there was a fistfight going on in one corner, but no one really bothered to check.

Everything had gone to the Pit when Hook had asked his first question:

To contact Cybertron or not to contact Cybertron?

That was _always_ the question!

About half of them were all for contacting Cybertron while the other half were not. The mechs who did not want to contact Cybertron used the argument that Megatron and Starscream would be back within the week – and as mechs!

The pro-contacting used the argument that Megatron and Starscream _wouldn't _come back, the reason being that even the Autobots (though having a collective intelligence of negative seven hundred and twenty-four point one four nine two four seven) weren't stupid enough to let their worst enemies run freely around their base – femmes or not!

But why am I just telling you how bad it was? Why don't we listen in, hmm...?

You'll want earplugs soon.

"I say we contact Cybertron and tell them that Megatron is captured or missing, presumed dead!" Onslaught roared across the table at Hook. Onslaught was standing, his full and considerable height enabling him to tower over the smaller Constructicon.

Hook sat in his chair and regarded the mech in front of him with cold, calculating optics. His interlaced fingers were surreptitiously close to his subspace pocket. The Constructicons (all of whom had come in sometime after the meeting's start) on either side of him glared at Onslaught, the hilts of their weapons gleaming in their hands.

"That," Hook said, his voice calm, but his anger palpable, "is the stupidest thing I've heard all day. And I hear a lot of stupid things on a regular basis."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Onslaught said scathingly. Hook's back imperceptibly straightened and Scrapper and Long Haul had to resist shooting the Combaticon leader outright. It was never a good idea to mess with the medic, or to insult him... although how that sentence is an insult, I'm not entirely sure. Most likely the Constructicons were just looking for an excuse to shoot Onslaught.

Several seats down the table, two more officers were arguing loudly, waving their guns in the air to emphasize their respective points. Thundercracker watched them lazily. _Ugh,_ he groaned internally. _This is why I _hate_ coming to these kinds of meetings…_

"I thought you said that Megatron and Starscream were dead!" Onslaughtroared at the Decepticon CMO. He waved vaguely in Thundercracker'sdirection. "Isn't that what you told him!?"

Hook's optics narrowed. "You dumb scrapheap! I never told him that Megatron and Starscream were dead – I told him there was a possibility that they won't come back. There's a significant difference. Besides, it was a tactic to get him in his seat... You know how stubborn he is."

Thundercracker bristled indignantly but said nothing, not falling for Hook's trick. His face scrunched into a deep, annoyed frown, and he flashed an ivory fang in Hook's direction. At that moment, he swore that he would never fall for that trick again.

Hook pointedly ignored the death glare sent his way. He addressed Onslaught, who was still sitting quietly across the room from him. "And about Megatron and Starscream getting back, I meant that there was little to no chance of them getting back _by_ _themselves_!" He put a lot of emphasis on the last two words. "Meaning – and I'll put this in _simple_ terms for you – that we would have to find a way to get into the Autobots' base and help them! And by pressing their advantage – everyone knows the Autobots are too soft to perform executions. They won't kill Megatron or Starscream. Lock them up; make it nigh on impossible to reach them, yes; but they will still be kept alive."

Hook looked around the room and paused, for a split second, on every pair of optics. "You know as well as I do that Megatron and Starscream have the ability, even as femmes, to escape those simple-minded Autobots easily..." He sent a quick glare at the silent tactician before continuing, "but backup never hurt anyone. I propose that we launch an assault – or some other means of distraction – while Megatron and Starscream escape. Once they're out, then we all get the Pit out of there and return to the Nemesis!"

Onslaught stared at the Constructicon leader.

"_That_ is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" he roared, bringing his fist down on the table with a loud _BANG._ "They were captured, plain and simple! And the Autobots aren't completely stupid! They would make it impossible for Megatron, Starscream, or Soundwave to escape and kill them if it fits their interests! Why do we have to waste resources trying to help them?"

Thundercracker looked at the Combaticon leader with something akin to disgust. _Idiot!_ he thought. _The Autobots can't hold any of them! Megatron is too powerful for the Autobots to handle. Not to mention that Starscream will be so annoying that the Autobots might just toss her out. And Soundwave...!_ Thundercracker paused when he couldn't immediately find a reason why Soundwave would escape. Then it came to him.

Soundwave was gone.

During Thundercracker's internal berating, monologue and confusion, Onslaught openly glared at Hook. Thundercracker could have sworn that lightning flashed between their optics, and he was pretty sure he heard Hook growling on a subsonic level. He was so engrossed in the various conversations that he didn't notice Skywarp lean over his shoulder until his wingmate whispered in his audio receptor.

"Two energon cubes says Onslaught loses."

Thundercracker jumped slightly, but saved his dignity by groaning. "Deal."

Onslaught brought his fist down in front of Hook again. "_That's_ your plan!?" he yelled. Thundercracker tilted his head in confusion. _Plan? What plan?_ This time, he actually paid attention to Hook and Onslaught's argument. "Are you crazy!? We're not going to go and _get _them! Either they get out themselves, or they rust there!"

Uh oh… Bad choice of words, Onslaught…

Thundercracker stopped dead at Onslaught's declaration.

Suddenly, the mechs sitting next to Hook and Onslaught fell silent at Onslaught's words. To be honest, the idea of leaving Megatron to rust had not crossed their minds. They agreed that Megatron _could_ be dead – hence the _missing or presumed dead _status – but leaving her behind if she was alive? Pit no!

Megatron was Megatron, femme or not, and the idea of leaving him – uh, _her_ behind was out of the question. Not to mention that if Megatron made it back, they would be screwed beyond saving. They'd be lucky if they _didn't_ see the business end of Megatron's fusion cannon. Onslaught's supporters had agreed that they would contact Cybertron and inform them of the situation, not leave Megatron in Autobot hands!

The officers in the next set of seats went quiet as the arguments died down around them. Then the next set of debates lost their fire. And the next, and the next, until the whole room (including the two fist fighters in the back corner) was watching the two replacement commanders stare each other down. Even Skywarp had gone quiet and had moved to stand directly behind Megatron's throne, using it as a shield.

TC, on the other hand, was stuck right in the middle of Hook and Onslaught's impending explosion.

I feel really sorry for him right now.

"Onslaught," Hook said in a calm, collected voice. His optics were narrowed in Cheshire cat fashion and a small smile graced his lips. "Do you realize what you just said…? Leaving Megatron to rust? Out great leader, femme or otherwise? Tsk, tsk, Onslaught, that's a terrible thing to say…" Scrapper, Long Haul, and the rest of the Constructicons chuckled cruelly behind the Decepticon medic. Hook leaned forward, a nasty grin plastered across his face. "That's high treason," Hook said softly. "Punishable by immediate termination."

Onslaught didn't say anything at the accusation or the pressure of optics from everyone in the room. His optics narrowed behind his visor and his fists clenched. Several tense moments passed in total silence.

"I only meant," Onslaught said through gritted teeth, "that we shouldn't waste any resources going to go get them. I do not believe they can be contained by just one small regiment of Autobot troops–" Hook opened his mouth to say something about how hypocritical Onslaught's words were, but Onslaught cut him off and addressed the whole room. "_However_," he shouted, "that one small regiment of troops is Prime's _personal_ regiment! Mechs he _handpicked_ to lead their exploration team and fight us! _Megatron's_ personal regiment!" He glared around the room as several whispers crept up.

"I'm not saying that they are better," the Combaticon tactician said calmly and clearly, his optics roving around the room. "I'm saying that, stupid though they are, the Autobots are…" Onslaught paused for a moment, searching for the right word, "_competent_ enough to know when they have the upper hand. And what's to stop them from killing Megatron and Starscream outright?"

More whispers broke out and several mechs turned away to discuss the situation. They hated this. The bare truth. True, they hated a lot of things, but this had to be one of the worst. But, being Decepticons, they accepted reality as it was. You don't get far in life if you can't accept a problem when it's presented to you in its entirety.

For the Decepticons, being overly optimistic usually got you dead.

It was still a wonder that the Autobots had survived this long.

Onslaught's optics continually roved around the table, stopping at random mechs, but not making optic contact with anyone. He ploughed on when no one – not even Hook – spoke up.

"Our leaders were unconscious the last time we saw them. The Autobots have weapons and the CPU capacity to know how to point, aim, and shoot. We have been fighting them for Primus knows how long and I don't think I need to describe how unlikely it would be for an Autobot and a Decepticon to meet and _not_ shoot each other on general principles." Onslaught glared around the table. His optics dared anyone to speak up or forever hold his silence. "Don't any of you think that the Autobots won't take advantage of this?" He continued to look at everyone and anyone. "They have their worst enemies, our great leaders, in their grasp. Not to mention that Megatron and Starscream are weaker now because of the femme situation."

No one said anything.

Even Skywarp was blessedly silent as Onslaught's reasoning slowly convinced the Decepticon officers.

Onslaught ploughed on.

"Wouldn't we do the same to Prime if he were in our hands?" Several backs stiffened at that, but Onslaught continued as though he hadn't noticed. "Maybe a bit more torture than the Autobots would be able to stomach, of course, but the point is Prime wouldn't live to see another cycle. He would be dead before long, and then we would attack the Autobots before they could recover from the blow. What's stopping the Autobots from doing the same?" Onslaught straightened to his full and considerable height and looked around the room imperiously.

"_That_ is why I say we contact Cybertron," he said calmly, no longer having to shout to be heard. _Everyone_ got the message. "We need to inform them of the situation. Not to formulate a rescue plan, because that is a waste of resources, time, and effort. The Autobots might not be good offensive fighters, but how many times have we been able to push through their defensive lines? Maybe a hundred times in the millions of base attacks? A rescue would only backfire and there would be more than just _three_ casualties!"

He returned his attention to Hook, who had been silent throughout the whole ordeal, just like everyone else.

"So, Hook, you say that rescuing them is our best course of action?" Onslaught put his hands on the table and leaned toward Hook. "You are a medic and a repair 'Con," Onslaught sneered. "You know _nothing_ of tactics."

Hook slammed his hands on the table and stood up as Scrapper, Long Haul, and the other Constructicons both aimed their blasters at Onslaught's head.

To Onslaught's credit, he didn't flinch.

The reason?

The Combaticons were right behind Onslaught with their own blasters pointed at Hook's head and the Constructicons.

Thundercracker's optics widened as he realized he was stuck in the middle of the impending shooting match.

_Oh slag…_

Everyone held their figurative breath as the Gestalts faced off.

"Say that again," Hook hissed, his visor brightening to a bright, blood red.

Hook's rarely used (but no less sharp) claws scraped against the metal of the table. The Constructicons' grips tightened on their weapons. The Combaticons did the same. You could see the heat waves coming off the gun barrels.

Mechs started to inch for the door…

Later, everyone would swear it was Onslaught's fault.

"You know _nothing…_!" Onslaught hissed.

That was when it all went to the Pit.

Gunshots rang out. Several mechs cried out in pain as dodged and rebounded shots hit them, and then there was a stampede for the door. They pushed against it, trying to get out, but they were so uncoordinated and worried about their own plating that no one bothered to punch in the unlocking sequence. More misaimed gunfire from the fighting mechs had the crowd of officers dropping like flies. Thankfully, they were only unconscious – not dead.

Yet.

Thundercracker, caught in the middle of the war zone, ducked underneath the table and pulled his wings down as shots rained from both sides. He toppled out of Megatron's throne and hit the dais as more and more shots whizzed overhead.

"Frag!" he cursed as a misaimed shot nearly hit his right wing.

He got to his knees and looked around the room. Most of the chairs were overturned and the screens on the walls had been destroyed. Scorch marks marred every surface of the War Room. Thundercracker rolled behind Megatron's throne to avoid another blast and promptly bumped into someone behind it. He looked up and saw Skywarp pressed against the back of the throne.

"Hey, TC!" Skywarp yelled over the noise of the battle. "You know, I think when they titled this the War Room, I don't think it was supposed to be taken literally!"

In spite of himself, Thundercracker groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead.

"This isn't the time for jokes, Skywarp!" he yelled into his wingmate's face.

"Yeah, yeah! 'We're in the middle of a war here! This ain't no time for stupid questions!''" Skywarp scoffed, using a weird human accent. Thundercracker had the feeling that he'd heard that statement before, but forgot it quickly as several more shots narrowly missed them. Both seekers cried out as misaimed shots whizzed by, narrowly avoiding their wings again. Even though he knew it was a stupid idea (because it increased the likelihood of getting shot), Thundercracker peeked around the throne to analyze the situation.

The Constructicons and the Combaticons were on opposite sides of the room, using overturned chairs and a couple of tables that Thundercracker was sure hadn't been there before as shields and barricades. He saw Hook and Onslaught at the forefront of the two 'armies,' aiming for each other's heads. Thundercracker ducked as a bright purple blast shot past. He saw all the others at the door, trying to get out. The entire room was trashed and getting worse by the second.

It was a complete and utter disaster.

"This can't possibly get any worse!" Thundercracker cried. He heard a horrified gasp behind him, and suddenly, he was grabbed by Skywarp and looking the teleporting seeker dead in the optic. He'd never seen such a scared look on his wingmate's normally cheerful faceplates before.

"DEAR PRIMUS ABOVE!" he yelled over the noise of exploding panels and gunshots. He shook Thundercracker roughly. "PLEASE TELL MY YOU DIDN'T SAY 'IT CAN'T GET ANY WORSE'!'"

Thundercracker stared at his wingmate in total confusion. Skywarp looked over his shoulder as though expecting to be attacked by a horrifying monster at anytime. He looked so frantic that Thundercracker had to say something.

"What's wrong!? I just said 'it can't get any–!'" Thundercracker's sentence stopped in his vocal processor as Skywarp slammed a hand down on his mouth plates. Skywarp's optics were very wide and a bright orange. He was scared.

"_THUNDERCRACKER_!" Said seeker started at the use of his full name. "YOU NEVER QUESTION THE POWERS THAT BE!" Skywarp screamed frantically into his friend's face. "IF YOU SAY IT CAN'T GET WORSE, IT _WILL_ GET WORSE! DON'T YOU PAY ATTENTION TO THE MOVIES WE'VE BEEN WATCHING?!"

Thundercracker stared at his wingmate. "That's ridiculous – _humans_ made those movies! They're never accurate – everyone knows that! Besides, the humans even had the technology wrong in _Terminator_!"

Skywarp shook him sharply. "Thundercracker," he said frenetically, though no longer yelling, "you never question a situation by saying it can't get worse, because _it will_."

"HOW!?" Thundercracker roared, thoroughly pissed off now. He threw Skywarp's hand from his chassis and (if he actually had saliva glands) spat in Skywarp's face. "WHAT COULD _POSSIBLY_ HAPPEN TO MAKE THINGS WORSE?!"

As if on cue, a grenade landed behind Thundercracker, but the blue seeker didn't notice, too busy yelling at his wingmate. Skywarp's optics turned a bright orange-yellow at the sight of the grenade and, with a faraway look on his face, he didn't even think before throwing both himself and Thundercracker at the opposite wall. The grenade exploded with enough force to leave a nice, circular niche in the floor right where Thundercracker had been only a few seconds before. The heat and resulting shockwave launched the two seekers into the far wall, but it didn't hurt.

The throne was intact.

Thundercracker leaned against the wall, quivering at the narrow escape. Skywarp still had one arm on Thundercracker's chassis. He cycled air quickly to cool his systems after the initial rush. Skywarp looked back at his wingmate, his optics back to a reddish-orange glow.

"_That_," he said, putting extra emphasis on the first word, "is why you never question the powers that be. It can _always_ be worse."

While grateful that he still had his chassis in one piece, Thundercracker quickly regained his composure and threw Skywarp's arm off. He didn't look at his wingmate or thank him for the narrow rescue. Skywarp sighed somewhat dejectedly and followed Thundercracker as the blue seeker searched for a semi-safe haven amid the wreckage of the room.

Their safe haven turned out to be a discarded table, one of the batch that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere (according to Thundercracker, anyway). They dashed behind it, careful to avoid being turned into Cybertronian Swiss cheese. They pressed their backs against the table, both looking everywhere for any more random, flying grenades.

"You're welcome, by the way."

Thundercracker snapped his head around to his wingmate, but Skywarp, still looking for more flying grenades, had his back turned. Thundercracker scoffed lightly. _I'm getting sentimental. Getting sentimental gets you killed, Thundercracker,_ he thought. He returned his attention to the War-Room-turned-battlefield and looked over his shoulder. The destruction and carnage had only increased.

Several chunks of wall lay scattered everywhere. The two sides of the Gestalt War (as Skywarp so lovingly called it several days later) were obscured by a thick haze of dust and smoke. Thundercracker could barely make out the outlines of the unhurt officers scrambling to get the door open. Still none of them bothered to move the unconscious tank from the keypad.

"Wait a breem…"

Thundercracker turned his head back to Skywarp. This time, his wingmate was sitting calmly, as though he was just sitting there because this was where he had decided to stop walking. Skywarp's face was both anxious and thoughtful, like he was worried about something he had forgotten to do. He counted something on his fingers like a small sparkling. Thundercracker waited patiently for Skywarp to answer.

"Thundercracker," Skywarp said in a no-nonsense tone, his head snapping up. Thundercracker did a double take. Skywarp used his full name again. "How many times did you question the powers that be?"

Thundercracker stared at his wingmate.

"What? Do you mean how many times I said, 'It can't get any-" Thundercracker stopped speaking as Skywarp slapped his hand over Thundercracker's mouth plates.

"Don't. Now seriously, how many times did you say it?"

Skywarp's face was only feet from his own, his optics shining with the same oddly serious light that had been there far too many times in the past two days. Skywarp wasn't supposed to be serious. Skywarp being serious in any situation was downright freaky. And Thundercracker didn't like it one bit. Thundercracker was supposed to be the voice of reason in the First Trine. Skywarp was supposed to be happy-go-lucky and the Head Prankster of the Nemesis. A bright spot of fun that Thundercracker loved to have around in the war – when he wasn't the one being pranked, of course. But this new, serious Skywarp was scaring him to some degree. The last time Skywarp had been this serious was when Vos had burned to the ground after the Autobots laid siege to it.

It was not one of the First Trine's better memories.

Thundercracker began to wonder if it really was worth it to have gotten out of recharge yesterday.

_I really should have stayed in bed._

"TC," Skywarp asked again, looking the other seeker directly in the optics. Thundercracker was glad for some normalcy. He almost missed hearing his annoying nickname. _Almost._ "How many times did you say it?"

Thundercracker sighed and quickly recalled the memory.

"Twice, I think," he said nonchalantly. That last grenade was a fluke, and they both knew it.

Skywarp gasped. Suddenly the whole room went quiet as the gunshots died. Somehow, Thundercracker knew that was far from good. _Oh no…_ Thundercracker and Skywarp looked over the top of their table-turned-barricade. As the dust settled, it revealed the true extent of the damage.

Almost all of the dark purple plating of every surface was either damaged, scorched, or in scattered pieces all over the room. The large monitors on the wall were shattered and glass littered the floor like shining crystal. Wires and broken cables hung inside the monitor like the guts of an organic creature. Large chunks of rubble from the ceiling, walls, and the floor were all over the place. Thundercracker could see several detached legs caught under the larger piles of rubble.

Quite a few mechs were going to be hopping on one leg for a while.

Two large piles of rubble stood on either side of the long white table. Hook and Onslaught each stood on top of one pile, facing the other. They glared openly at the other, but their blasters were at their sides, and neither side was in any position to fire. Even the mechs scrabbling to get out the doors watched the proceedings apprehensively.

A quiet but intense tension filled the air.

"Constructicons!" Hook commanded from his pile. Said Constructicons gathered around their leader, keeping their optics on the Combaticons at all times. Hydraulics hissed as they readied themselves for another fight.

"Combaticons!" Onslaught ordered. The Combaticons did the same. They came at their leader's call and stood there, watching the enemy. There were several manic grins on a few of the faces, the direct opposite to the stoic and angry faces of the Constructicons.

"Oh, shit…" Thundercracker and Skywarp whispered in unison.

"**_COMBINE!_**"

The sounds of multiple mechs transforming at once reverberated around the large, destroyed room. Both Gestalts combined simultaneously. Limbs, joints, arms, legs and sparks came together in one confusing mass of robotic circuitry, where only the combining teams knew where one mech ended and the other began. The impressive (even for the Decepticons) transformations produced the two huge, hulking forms of Devastator and Bruticus.

"Oh, _shit_…" Thundercracker and Skywarp said again.

For a moment, it looked as though both Gestalts would just sit there, not moving, because there was nothing worth their notice to fight. Sure, there were some smaller mechs, but the smaller mechs' red optics classified them as friendly, and their programming said not to harm allied forces… but the mech of the same size as the Gestalt was not supposed to be here.

_But the other had red optics. _

_But they were big. _

_But they had red optics!_

_But they were big!_

_JUST _**_KILL_**_ THEM ALREADY!_ two voices shouted, one in each mind, and that was all it took.

Both combiners launched themselves at each other, Bruticus (for once) taking orders only from himself. The two huge Gestalts slammed together with such force that the whole room shook as they wrestled each other in the middle of the room, their large feet cracking the white meeting table in two. The other Decepticons watched in growing horror as the two Gestalts fought it out.

Thundercracker and Skywarp watched in morbid fascination as the two giant mechs fought. It wasn't every day that you saw the Decepticon Gestalts fight each other. They would have continued to watch _Clash of the Titans: Decepticon Style_, if it wasn't for one small action: a large shadow looming over the two remaining First Trine seekers. They looked up to see Devastator's giant foot heading straight for them.

"MOVE!" Thundercracker yelled, and they both dove to the side as the large foot descended and smashed the table into a pile of crushed metal.

Thundercracker cycled air heavily as Devastator moved his oversized feet. Skywarp made gasping sounds as he cycled air to cool his own systems. Skywarp looked up when he felt Thundercracker's optics on his plating and smiled despite the circumstances. However, that smile was short-lived. Another shadow fell across Skywarp's body. The teleporting seeker's face fell, and he looked up tentatively. Thundercracker watched in horror (as though it was in slow motion) as the large foot of Bruticus descended toward his remaining wingmate. Skywarp quickly shot out from underneath the shadow and crashed headlong into Thundercracker's chest.

"Come on!" Thundercracker shouted, grabbing the semi-stunned seeker by the arms.

Thundercracker's voice seemed to snap Skywarp out of his daze. The two mechs dodged, jumped, and ducked – Skywarp even slid – to avoid being squashed by the heavy feet. Several mechs were already screaming from the agony of their crushed and bleeding limbs. Thundercracker and Skywarp continued for the exit and slammed into the crowd. The former fully intended to get to the keypad to open the door, but the frantic, 'I'm-looking-out-for-my-own-plating' mechs threw him this way and that until he lost his footing. He didn't fall, as all the other bodies were supporting him, but he couldn't even see past one or two mechs in front of him.

"Skywarp!" Thundercracker yelled, hoping to be heard over the roar of the crowd. "Where are you, you Pit-spawned, slagging glitch?!" He felt bodies pressing in on all sides, his wings being shoved and pushed into angles that seeker wings were never meant to take. He cried out as claws and sharp kibble raked his wings, leaving scratches in the sensitive metal. He was pushed this way and that, his wings taking most of the damage.

Suddenly, Thundercracker felt a clawed hand frantically grabbing at his own. Thundercracker latched onto it like a drowning man at sea and looked down to see a purple hand in his own, scratching desperately at his plating. Without even thinking who it was or could be, he screamed.

"SKYWARP! GET US OUT OF HERE!"

And with a blessedly familiar _Skeeruuuuu-FONK_, every mech touching Skywarp (including the mechs touching the mechs touching Skywarp) disappeared in a bright, pale purple light and the sensation of being pulled through a narrow space.

And they all left the destroyed War-Room behind.

---

The teleportation sequence lasted only a split second, but it felt so much longer than that. Every single mech that had been in the crowd reappeared in the middle of the Decepticon Rec Room where the other soldiers were relaxing. At the sight of so many energon-covered mechs scrambling gracelessly away from everyone else, glad to have more room instead of just being scrunched up against a wall, most of the soldiers stared in amazement.

The officers, once they had their bearings back, all began to swear quite colorfully at their narrow escape from being turned into metal discuses. Most ran off and regrouped with their partners or immediate subordinates to relay the news, leaving a shaking Skywarp and a shell-shocked Thundercracker behind. Skywarp swayed on shaking legs, but Thundercracker caught him before he collapsed.

"TC," Skywarp said tiredly. Skywarp's claws dug into Thundercracker's shoulder plating, and he pulled himself up to look his wingmate in the optics. "If you _ever_ tell me to teleport that many mechs ever again, remind me to kill you."

"Whatever, 'Warp," Thundercracker said as his wingmate released his shoulder.

Together, they quickly headed over to what they assumed was an empty booth in a quiet back corner of the room – only to find it occupied by the Cassettes, still recharging where they had fallen asleep the day before.

"Huh," Skywarp said, looking at the prone and sleeping forms, "they finally have a good idea. I think I'll join them…" Skywarp was about to fall into the booth on top of the cassettes, but Thundercracker stopped him.

"We'll get our own table, 'Warp – then we can get you some energon." He dragged the tired purple and black seeker to a nearby booth and sat him down inside it. "There you go," Thundercracker said in a calm and soothing voice. He was glad no-one was paying close attention to the gentle care of his wingmate. Wingmate or not, gentleness was a sign of weakness, and Thundercracker couldn't afford to lose face in front of his comrades lest they try to take advantage of them both.

Thundercracker quickly got two energon cubes from the dispenser on the far wall and returned to find Skywarp sitting up and shaking his head lightly. He looked up at Thundercracker's approach and smiled tiredly.

"Thank Primus for energon!" he said and downed his cube in two large gulps. Thundercracker sat down opposite his wingmate and sipped his cube gingerly. Skywarp laid his head on his arms and watched Thundercracker sip his cube. They were silent for a long time.

Thundercracker was the first to speak. He placed his cube down on the table and sighed. Something had been bugging him ever since he had shouted the command that saved their derma plating.

"Skywarp," Thundercracker said in a businesslike and slightly angry tone, fiddling with his cube, "could you have teleported us out of that room before I ordered you to?"

Skywarp looked at Thundercracker, a confused frown on his face. Thundercracker's optics narrowed. Skywarp's face brightened into a mischievous and tired grin. It only increased in size when Thundercracker's optics continually narrowed.

"Now that I look back on it," he said tiredly. "Yeah, I could've." Skywarp nuzzled into his folded arms and dimmed his optics. Thundercracker slammed his half-empty glass onto Skywarp's head – not enough to do permanent damage, but enough to get his point across.

And leave a nice, square dent in Skywarp's helm.

"OW!" Skywarp cried and sat up straight. "What was that for!?" He looked indignantly at Thundercracker, rubbing his dented helm.

"Why didn't you get us out sooner!?" Thundercracker demanded, his optics narrowed in annoyance.

"It didn't occur to me," Skywarp said.

And with that, Skywarp plopped his head and arms onto the table and went into recharge.

Thundercracker (though still ticked off at Skywarp's inaction) sat there with his legs on the rest of the bench-seat. He quietly thought about everything that had happened and could still happen now that there were two large Gestalts wrestling in the Office section of the Nemesis.

Skywarp's light snoring somehow lulled Thundercracker into a sense of security and calmness, even as the sounds of two huge mechs brawling travelled the length of the Nemesis.

---

**Ending AN:** Well, there you are. The Decepticons are in trouble again. And let's see… Is there anything I forgot…? Oh yeah! Remember how I said that no one is going to die in this fic? Yeah? Well… I lied.

Remember: Reviews make me happy and opinions are heard!! Drop me one so I know how well or badly I'm doing!


	8. Birds of a Feather Flock Together Part 2

**AN:** I AM ALIVE!!! Hello! Happy belated Halloween from your favorite Firefly! I am so sorry this took forever to get out (closing in on six months?). I was hit by a strong case of writer's block followed by a disinterest in the Transformers fandom for awhile. Not to mention that with school in session, my teachers are apparently all trying to outdo themselves with the amount of work they can give me and my classmates. And being in a college preparatory and in an AP class doesn't exactly help my workload.

But let me just say this: I WILL NEVER GIVE UP THIS STORY. Notice the caps lock if you doubt my sincerity. I've thought up this entire story, plus or minus a few ironing details.

Now on to the important, chapter-specific parts: Once again, I believe I have taken too long in writing this chapter, and the entire Birds of a Feather Flock Together chapter is worthy of three chapters. So three chapters it will be. Also, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble in the forwarding of plot and character development, so please be warned. This chapter hasn't been beta-ed since BlackwingRose is busy with her own legitimate novel, but I did use spellchecker! (That'sworth something in my mind.)

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Chapter 8

Birds of a Feather Flock Together: Part 2

Starscream sat quietly in the corner of her cell. She stretched one of her legs out and brought the other close to her chest, one arm resting lazily on top of it, the other arm lying by her side. She had a blank, unreadable look on her face, as though she was out of tune with the world. The chains connected to her limbs and neck clicked lightly together. She had been this way for almost an hour.

The reason for her stoic and quiet nature?

I would blame the boisterous Autobot sitting in the chair by the door.

And her preoccupation with a small matter with another femme.

"_I'm telling you, Soundwave, you should _hear _this fragging mech!!_" Starscream ranted internally. _"He's sitting over there with a large pile of these metal rectangles with human faces and symbols on them, saying he's playing something called Solitaire!! AND HE'S BLASTING HUMAN MUSIC IN MY AUDIO-RECEPTORS!!! I swear they'll bleed energon before long!!"_

Okay, so it wasn't so much a preoccupation as more of a loud whine-fest.

Soundwave, in her own cell, nodded absentmindedly as she listened to the dulled human music through the mental link, tapping her finger lightly against her inner arm in rhythm, and stacked a four of diamonds on a five of spades on her HUD. She was curled into a ball in the far left corner so that she was closer to Starscream's cell. Her visor was dim and most of her systems were working at basic life support level to give the impression of recharge. It wouldn't be fooled by a detailed scan, but it was good enough for now.

She paused her game and returned her full attention to the mental probe. She followed the mental link, wrapping her mind in barriers to protect herself, and entered Starscream's consciousness. The winds of the seeker's mind were gale-force strong again and blew in every direction, just like Starscream and her ire. Soundwave slowly allowed her consciousness to disperse, reaching into the depths of Starscream's mind.

Starscream was well aware of what Soundwave was doing. It was a telepath's way of 'wearing' the body of the infiltrated mind. It gave Soundwave a clearer connection of the world through Starscream's senses. And where Soundwave's senses where sharp in her own body, now her original body's senses seemed dull, clouded, like looking through fog or listening underwater. Now everything Starscream sensed Soundwave did as well.

Which also meant she had to suffer through Starscream's rant at full volume.

"_I don't see how you can _stand_ it!! It's making my slagging processor ache WORSE!!! I swear I'm going to kill him if that _NOISE _doesn't stop this instant!!"_ Starscream ranted. The winds of the seeker's mind buffeted Soundwave's probe, tossing it this way and that. Soundwave slammed into several of her mental barriers as Starscream's overbearing personality conflicted with her own stoic, but unyielding persona. Her headache increased as she spun around like the spin cycle in a washing machine.

"_Starscream! Stop shouting! You're making me dizzy!"_ Soundwave demanded. Starscream (of course) didn't hear her and continued to rant, this time about something with the Autobot Third-In-Command's head, a null ray, and target practice.

Soundwave took a proverbial deep breath and tried to quell the urge to mentally punch Starscream. It was so fragging hard to deal with the seeker when she chose to be an unreasonable glitch in the system. Always complaining, always arguing, always, always, _always_ being a useless, whining waste of metal!

"_Eh?"_ Starscream paused in her rant on disemboweling a certain saboteur,_ "Soundwave? Is that murderous intent I'm feeling from you?"_

Soundwave could have slapped herself in the face. Slag, her emotions were escaping her and if Starscream (one of the least empathetic mechs- _femmes_ ever created) could feel her desire to rip Starscream's vocal processor from her throat, then she _knew_ her emotions were sneaking out. Soundwave recovered quickly.

"_No, Starscream._" She said firmly. _"I am sure it is the murderous intent you feel for the Autobot's Third-In-Command."_

Starscream wasn't convinced.

"_Soundwave, don't try to fool me!"_ She snapped. "I _am the lying sneak in the Decepticon ranks, and you know it!"_

Soundwave scoffed extremely annoyed. In response, Starscream started ranting about rank, and then it dissolved into an I-hate-Megatron tirade, punctuated with screams of rage against the Autobots and their situation.

"_Starscream, as much as I'd like to listen to your graphic description of the Autobot Third-In-Command's demise,"_ Soundwave said in a strained tone, _"would you shut up for a few minutes?"_

"_AND THEN I'LL TAKE HIS LEFT ARM- Soundwave, I am on a _roll_. Don't interrupt me- AND BEAT HIM UP WITH IT BEFORE I REATTACH IT AND RIP IT OFF AGAIN!!!"_

If Soundwave could have facepalmed, she would have. Starscream was such an idiot. Here she was trying to get them a way out and Starscream wouldn't cooperate. She was starting to understand what Megatron felt and thought just before shooting Starscream for speaking out of turn.

Well, if Starscream wasn't going to shut up willingly, then making her shut up would be a nice alternative.

Possession was just a simple matter of forcing the main programming and personality of the mech/femme in question to shut down. With said main programming down, Soundwave's own programming and personality would temporarily take over and control the body like it was her own. Done countless times, done on countless people, nice for a Saturday night joke when Skywarp needed clearance to give Onslaught something to do, possession was also an effective means of information gathering. Granted it wasn't exactly pleasant for the possessed mech/femme in question.

Oh well, that was Starscream's problem.

Soundwave subtly maneuvered herself to a less defended area of Starscream's mind, careful to avoid arousing suspicion. It would do her no good if her recording were interrupted because she couldn't multitask and keep Starscream busy. She raised her barriers to keep herself and her probe steady. Starscream didn't notice when Soundwave attached herself to a more abstract section of her mind and got ready to dive. Soundwave quietly sent calming waves throughout Starscream's persona. It was only when her anger started to die down of its own accord, did Starscream realize something was amiss.

"_Wha-?"_ Starscream said numbly. Then her temper flared even higher, despite the waves of calm._ "SOUNDWAVE!! YOU _BITCH!!_"_

Starscream's gale force mental winds slammed into Soundwave and her probe, causing Soundwave to lose concentration for a moment. That one moment was all it took for Soundwave to lose herself in Starscream's wild, untamed, power hungry personality.

_RAHHH!!! WHY WAS MEGATRON SUCH AN IDIOT!?!? It was _her_ fault they wound up in this mess!! Soundwave's wings ached because she'd been lying on her side. How stupid was she for lying on her side? She knew that was an idiotic position only taken by fragging ground-pounders!!! Speaking of ground-pounders, Soundwave wanted to kill all the Autobots just for keeping her imprisoned underground, and the stupid, stupid, rather good looking, Autobot guard would die!! After that, she'd get out of this underground hellhole and get back to the sky. Then she'd murder everything that wasn't her, the sky, or her wingmates. _

…_Okay, so Skywarp wouldn't escape her wrath. He'll be scrap within the next two hours after she gets out of this accursed, fragging, ground-pounder's sorry excuse for a ship!!_

The combined weight of the two minds slowed Starscream's CPU considerably, calming the winds of Starscream's (_or was it Soundwave's?_) mind for a moment. The telepathic probe stabilized and followed its emergency programming. _When consciousnesses combine, irreparable damage can occur unless immediate action is taken in the form of separating of said consciousnesses._ The probe slammed a strong mental barrier between Starscream and Soundwave and wrapped smaller yet still strong barriers around Soundwave's pieces, effectively separating the two consciousnesses into independent entities once again.

Soundwave, unaware the situation had changed in her favor, smashed into the mental barriers with the proverbial force of a successful Jet Judo crash landing. The "crash" shook Soundwave to her core and threw Starscream's personality traits from her mind. It was happening too fast for Soundwave to effectively make any response.

With the nigh impenetrable wall separating them, the probe repaired Soundwave's psyche, bringing all the scattered pieces of her mind together, still surrounded by the strong mental barrier. Soundwave, quite literally, pulled herself together and shook off any mental influences from Starscream. The probe's emergency barrier dissolved when its task was complete, leaving Soundwave at Starscream's mercy. In a sense.

"_WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT SOUNDWAVE!?!?"_ Starscream yelled in anger, already mostly recovered from the metal attack. The lazy winds of Starscream's mind rose in intensity again, but Soundwave forced her probe to stay still and ignored Starscream completely. _"I swear, Soundwave, if you _EVER _do that again, I will personally see you deactivated, IS THAT CLEAR!?!"_ Starscream screeched.

Soundwave's headache (which had been present ever since she woke up) throbbed even harder with Starscream's shouts. She didn't have any time for this!! Her recordings might be damaged!!

"_Starscream!!"_ Soundwave snapped, more anger seeping into her words for the first time in a long time. _"If you would allow me to finish my work that would actually _get us out of here, _then maybe I wouldn't have to knock you out!!_" If Soundwave actually had a pair of mental fangs, they would have been bared. Here Soundwave was trying to stabilize her probes and gather information to plot outcomes and situational necessities, along with the necessary weapons to repel enemy troops, and Starscream thinks it's a good idea to interrupt her.

Starscream scoffed. _"What could be so important that you had to put me under for it?! Why in the Pit would you need to control my body like some sick puppeteer!?"_ She asked acidly. "_So you could have the Autobot's aft all to yourself?!"_

Soundwave stopped.

"… _What?"_

Starscream continued to rant about violations of privacy, lack of communications, and something about how she got no respect, while Soundwave ran those sentences through her processor several more times.

They still made no sense to her.

Soundwave interrupted Starscream mid-rant.

"_Why would I focus on any physical aspect of an Autobot?"_ She asked in confusion and repulsion._ "They're the enemy, in case you have forgotten that little detail."_

"_You like the human garbage his speakers are spewing, don't you?"_ Starscream said angrily, _"and don't think I haven't seen the way you look at him!!"_

Soundwave paused again.

"_Starscream,"_ She said tonelessly. _"He hasn't even entered my cell. Just what the hell are you talking about?"_

"_DON'T YOU PRETEND TO BE INNOCENT!! I KNOW OTHERWISE!!!"_

Okay, this conversation was getting nowhere fast.

Ugh, why did Starscream have to be such a loud and screechy glitch? Couldn't she just shut up and let Soundwave do her work? Or better yet, turn off her vocal processor and do something useful, like interacting with the Autobot Third-In-Command (Jazz, as his records stated). Any of those things would have been a better use of both Soundwave's and Starscream's time and energy.

But since Starscream didn't do any of the above, Soundwave settled for making Starscream's headache worse.

An energy pulse here, a few tweaked thoughts here, and one humongous mental smackdown was all it took.

Back in the physical world, Starscream suddenly grabbed her head and screamed in pain as her headache increased two-fold. She offlined her optics and curled into a ball, still screaming. It felt like someone was trying to cut her head open with a dull, rusted knife and had the surgical grace of a scrap drone.

"_Soundwave!!"_ She shouted internally, the pain preventing her from vocalizing her pleas. _"Stop it!!"_

Soundwave (in typical, sadistic, Decepticon fashion) ignored Starscream's cries and pretended like she hadn't heard a word Starscream said. With Starscream focused more on her headache than Soundwave, she could conduct her business in relative peace and possibly get it done more quickly. She'd edit out the screams later.

Everything was finally going to according to plan.

Until Soundwave and Starscream found themselves being shaken by the Autobot TIC.

Starscream's head snapped up, causing her headache to increase and she cried out in pain. Despite not doing anything except listening, Soundwave's headache (or mental ache, since she didn't exactly have a head at the moment) intensified at the Autobot's touch. The pain caused both Decepticons' visions to blur as Starscream's CPU tried to process two minds in pain at once.

Soundwave realized this was not good. The combined weight of their minds could crash Starscream's CPU if both were pushed too far. Through a concentrated effort of will, Soundwave withdrew herself from Starscream's inner thoughts and separated herself from Starscream with a stronger mental barrier. She didn't return to her own body, but she couldn't sense anything as clearly as before.

Starscream's shrieks of pain slowly died as her CPU processed less and less information. She gulped air to cool her stressed and heated systems, shaking and shivering despite knowing she had felt worse before. Instinctively, she rested her head against the nearest surface and quietly noted that there was a very pretty number 4 drawn on it…

Too late she realized just _who_ she was leaning on.

Jazz was kneeling in front of Starscream, one hand on her shoulder, looking quite surprised at the seeker's head resting on his chest. Once it finally hit her, Starscream immediately tore her head away from the Autobot and accidentally slammed the back of her helm into the wall behind her. There was a nice dent formed from that intense meeting on Starscream's helm. She stared at the Autobot, poor Soundwave along for the ride. Neither Starscream nor Soundwave could see Jazz's optics behind his visor (even at this close range), but somehow he still managed to look worried.

"You okay, sweetspark?" He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

Time stopped for Starscream and Soundwave. Soundwave's mind ran over a terabyte a second just to find an answer to that simple question, but seemed to move like cold molasses. Was she _okay_? Or more specifically, was Starscream _okay_ since the Autobot Third-In-Command had asked about her? Soundwave couldn't think of an acceptable answer that would satisfy both herself and the Autobot Third-In-Command.

WAIT A MINUTE!

For one thing, why was he asking anyway? What was the point? An Autobot wouldn't concern himself with a Decepticon, let alone one that was captured, so why ask? What did the Autobots gain? Kindness makes you weak, compassion leaves openings in defenses, expose your spark and you get stabbed. So why would the Autobot ask if they were okay!?

_Unless…!_ Soundwave's logic reasoned, _he's trying to gather information on your current status so as to properly device a more effective method of incoming torture or means of extraction for secret Decepticon codes!_

Soundwave had to agree with her logic's reasoning, but for the life of her couldn't remember a time when her logic even _had_ a voice, let alone spoke to her. But a lot of weird slag had happened to her lately, what was one more oddity? She snapped her attention back to the outside world when Jazz closed in on the two Decepticon officers.

Jazz leaned in close and tilted his head like a quizzical child. He looked Starscream square in the optics and his frown deepened. It suddenly occurred to Soundwave that Starscream hadn't said a word during her entire internal battle with the illogical. Not to mention that battle had lasted ten seconds.

"Starscream…?" Jazz asked, nearly nose to nose with the red seeker, worried clearly displayed on his faceplates

Starscream didn't do anything as all attention turned to her. She continued to stare the Autobot Third-In-Command with wide, bright optics. Both of them waited for Starscream to make some kind of intelligent response. When none was immediately forthcoming, Soundwave kicked Starscream's mind into gear.

Quite literally.

You can see the footprint if you look hard enough.

Soundwave was less than impressed with her result, though.

"… What did you call me?" Starscream whispered indignantly.

The Autobot Third-In-Command smiled and drew back slightly. "I called ya a sweetspark." He said, "and ya seem ta be better now." He nonchalantly sat lazily in front of Starscream, though Soundwave noticed he was a little too close to Starscream. Soundwave silently noted that the Autobot was either A. Suicidal, or B. Didn't know the meaning of personal space.

"What happened to ya anyway?" The Autobot asked, concern lacing his voice. "I'm pretty sure that suddenly screamin' out in pain after a few hours not movin' isn't normal, even by Decepticon standards."

"How would you know!?" She demanded angrily.

Soundwave was banging her head against the proverbial wall. _"How would you know?"_ was the best Starscream could come up with!?

The Autobot chuckled. "I'm a saboteur! Getting into yer bases and seein' what you Cons are up to is what I do fer a livin'. But all jokes aside," his tone became serious and worry laced again, "what happened to ya?"

"None of your slagging business!!" Starscream screeched and kicked out with a leg. Jazz dodged the attack easily and backed up several feet, a safe distance from Starscream's limbs.

"Well, the insults are still there, so ya must be fine, maybe it was nothin'." The Autobot grinned, despite the death glares he received from the chained seeker. "That's good ta hear! I was afraid I would've had ta take ya to see the Hatchet, and trust me," his tone became dead serious, "ya don't want to see him today. He's already mad at Prime fer being careless and sent a whole databurst ta the rest of us ta keep our heads on straight and not do anythin' stupid, though in a much more verbal and cuss-filled tirade, mind you."

An awkward silence filled the room as neither Starscream nor Soundwave knew just how to respond to that rather blatant piece of random information. Starscream slowly brought her knees up to her chest and glared at the Autobot Third-in-Command, now more wary of insane Autobots than ever before.

Soundwave, meanwhile, was _still_ banging her head against a proverbial wall, though not at Starscream's unoriginality.

Dear Primus, why were the Autobots so damn confusing!? One minute, the Third-In-Command (her own counterpart in the army hierarchy) is playing Solitaire and listening to some good music, not worrying about the silent, chained seeker in the corner, and the next, asking if they were okay, Solitaire and music forgotten, and now he's trying to make small talk about the Autobot medic and his extremely volatile temper!?

If there was one thing Soundwave knew for sure, the Autobots were just as confusing as the human culture they adopted!

"_Soundwave,"_ Starscream said irritably, _"stop banging your mind against mine. The headache is getting worse!"_

Soundwave pointedly ignored Starscream. Soundwave couldn't understand why things were progressing the way they were!! There was definitely something wrong with this entire situation, the most likely source being that Autobot Third-In-Command. Not that Starscream didn't come a close second, but since her temper was still as explosive as ever, she wasn't the culprit. But something was _wrong_. Something was very, very, fundamentally _wrong_. Soundwave couldn't put her finger on it. There was something different, something missing, something changed about this entire situation. But she still couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was!! And why the hell was it so confusing!? She shouldn't be having this much trouble analyzing a situation! And the stupid headache wouldn't go away…! Maybe the headache was the culprit!

And no, the source of her troubles was not the femme thing. The femme thing was just an elaborate illusion concocted by her befuddled CPU, so that couldn't be the guilty party.

"_Look, you sorry excuse for a communications officer,"_ Starscream began, _"I have a headache! You are making it worse! STOP IT!!"_

"_Shut it, Starscream!"_ Soundwave unknowingly snarled. Said communications officer then slapped herself for letting her frustration show, but the damage had already been done.

"_GOOD PRIMUS, SOUNDWAVE, IS A LITTLE RESPECT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR!?!?"_ Starscream shouted. Externally, her face darkened and a low growl emanated from her throat.

"_I'll give you my respect when you actually _deserve it_, you stupid, narcissistic bitch!!"_ Soundwave near shouted. Soundwave's logic centers were screaming at her to stop showing her emotions and to put the stupid things back under lock and key. There were far more important matters that required her attention than a noisy seeker! But as of now, Soundwave didn't give a frag what her logic said, she was going to give Starscream a piece of her mind!! _"I'm trying to find us a way out of here and get us to tools to do so, while you're just sitting around bitching about the stupidest things!!_"

Starscream growled in anger and her eyes flashed a bright blood red. "YOU ARE SO INSENSITIVE!!!" She screamed as loudly as she could and banged her fist against the wall (as though Soundwave could hear it in her own cell).

"How am I insensitive…?"

_Oh shit._

Starscream's and Soundwave's attention snapped to the Autobot still sitting in the middle of the room. His face looked so downtrodden, both Soundwave and Starscream felt a small pang of sympathy, but both promptly slapped themselves and Soundwave started running diagnoses on herself to try and find the source of her odd behavior. Starscream took the hidden cue and glared at the saboteur as if the source of her anger was him.

"Do you really want me to start!?" She screeched at him, covering her and Soundwave's tracks. Before Jazz could answer, she continued on. "Let's see, you invaded my personal space, you touched me, insulted me, and tried to pry personal information out of me! Oh, and don't forget that the Autobots trapped me in a box, I'm low on energy, I'm chained to a wall, I'm alone with an Autobot, this place could use a ceiling light, maybe a window or four, an actual _berth_…!!" Starscream went on and on. Jazz just sat there and listened to the whole tirade, frowning slightly at the very, very, _very_ long list.

Even I'm pretty sure that Starscream made up half that list on the spot.

No one could bullslag like Starscream.

"Ya know, sweetspark," the Autobot said loudly so he could be heard over the seeker, "if you're low on energy, I can get ya a cube."

"AND HAVE YOU POISON IT BEFORE YOU GIVE IT TO ME, I THINK NOT!!" She shouted, and crossed her arms over her chest and middle (to quell the noise coming from it). "AND DON'T EVER CALL ME SWEETSPARK!!"

The Autobot grinned cheekily, despite the death glares and rude hand gestures sent his way. "Well, why wouldn't I call a pretty femme like yourself a sweetspark?" he asked innocently.

"Because you're a fragging Autobot!!" Starscream shouted, as though it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

"Only if you want me to be." The Autobot Third-In-Command said, in his most suave voice. Starscream's systems blazed with heat at his statement.

"SHUT IT!!" She screamed and brought her legs closer to her chest and crossed her ankles.

"_You know…"_ Soundwave quipped (diagnosis complete and nothing physically nor wrong with her systems), _"if you _did_ interface with him, we could get the proper informa-_"

"_AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING FROM YOU!!"_ Starscream snapped angrily._ "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!"_

"_When I'm finished with my work, then I'll leave."_ Soundwave said calmly. "_But until then, just put up with the fact that I need to record this."_

"_RECORD WHAT!?"_ Starscream shouted in annoyance.

"_None of your fragging business. Just know that it will help us."_ The finality it Soundwave's tone told Starscream her questions on that particular subject were at an end.

"_I'll believe that when I see it."_

"_Just keep him busy."_

"_That's the easy part."_

"And furthermore," Starscream said to Jazz, "you are a fragging annoyance! All the Autobots have no slagging respect nor dignity…" Her rant continued on and on and on, punctuated by the worst cursing ever devised by humans and Cybertronians alike. Jazz got the nonexistent hint and retreated back to the guard's chair. He continued his game of Solitaire, music still playing, and only listened to half of Starscream's tirade.

"You know, sweetspark," Jazz couldn't help saying, as Starscream said a very vulgar word, "if you really want me to do everything dirty thing that's coming out of your mouth, I'd be happy to oblige."

His cheeky grinned fell slightly as Starscream tore from her corner and tried to attack him, fangs and claws flashing. However the much more effective scream of rage that tore from her vocal processor could have broken a wine glass with its volume alone, never mind the _pitch_.

---

Ratchet wiped the energon off his hands and leveled a stern glare at the mech sitting on the berth. Optimus's pointedly ignored his medic's murderous aura and instead focused on his repaired face and new facemask. Wheeljack might be their resident engineer, but Ratchet still made the better facemasks. And didn't blow them or himself up in the process.

"Thank you Ratchet," Optimus said politely. Ratchet didn't say anything immediately. Now, Prime wasn't stupid. He knew when Ratchet was mad and mad at _him._

"I hope you've learned a very important lesson, Prime," Ratchet said sternly, placing a welder on a nearby cart, "you should have known better than to get close to Megatron. She's still a danger even when chained, low on energy, and especially in a bad mood."

"I was just checking on her condition, Ratchet," Optimus said defensively, "it seemed there was something wrong with her internal systems that triggered a violent response."

"Aside from her personality?" Ratchet deadpanned.

"… You've got a point there. But yes, something other than her personality."

Ratchet huffed and pushed his cart to the other side of the large Med-Bay. "Look, Prime," Ratchet said. Optimus prepared himself for _another_ lecture, and a long one too since Ratchet called him 'Prime.' "Before I go into just what my policy is when dealing with a Decepticon prisoner, _you_ need some intelligence drilled into that thick helm you call a processor!"

Optimus groaned internally. It was _that_ lecture.

"You have to be more careful around Megatron and the others. Stay away from her and keep your weapon trained on her spark. A Decepticon she may be, but even Decepticons don't want to die. Furthermore, if I hear that you got yourself damage again because you weren't letting sleeping Decepticons lie-!"

_:Jazz to Ratchet. Come in Ratchet!:_

Ratchet growled in annoyance. "One moment, Prime." He snarled.

_:What do you want?:_ He growled. _:I'm in the middle of something!:_

_:Prime's lecture. Right.:_ Jazz said across the line. Ratchet noticed he sounded both wary and "I-did-something-I'm-not-supposed-to-and-my-medic-is-going-to-slag-me-first-chance-he-gets."

_:What. Happened?:_ Ratchet said.

_:Slaggit…:_ Jazz whispered. Ratchet's growls were the only warning Jazz was going to get, and the saboteur knew it.

_:Uh,:_ He started. _:How long will it take you to repair a set of audios? I can't hear a thing.:_

_:What. Did. You. Do?:_

_:Let's just say that Starscream doesn't have sense of humor?:_

"YOU ABSOLUTE _IDIOT!!_" Ratchet roared out loud. "THE STUPIDITY I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH!! STARSCREAM DOESN'T NEED TO BE PROVOKED!! DIDN'T I SEND YOU A MEMO **THIS MORNING** SAYING_**NOT TO PROVOKE THE DECEPTICONS**__!?!?!? _NOW, GET YOUR AFT TO THE MED-BAY!!!" Ratchet continued to shout and curse over the comm. lines until every single Autobot was well aware of the situation, even if they weren't currently using the comm. lines.

Jazz spent the next few days in the Med-Bay having his audios repaired. Granted he may have to stay longer if Ratchet didn't stop yelling.

---

**Ending AN:** Well there you are. Approximately 4,657 words and 12 pages of story. Once again, in case of OOCness, I am sorry, there is still method to madness. More author's notes and explanations will come when someone finds something that needs explaining.

The results of my latest poll: In GBDS, TC's screwed right?

1. Help us. Signed, Megs and Co.

2. Oh, that seeker's in for a whole lot of responsibility he doesn't even want!!

3. Yeah, he's screwed.

4. TTATT TC!!! I FEEL YOUR PAIN!!!

5. TELEPORTING SEEKERS FTW!!

Reviews are loved, the longer the better, and truly are motivation. And if you haven't already, there's a poll in my profile. Please take it and bear with me a little longer. I will try to work on this story and hopefully have another chapter by Christmas after my exams.


	9. Birds of a Feather Flock Together Part 3

**AN:** Who ordered the next chapter of GBDS! *sees the angry hordes of readers over her shoulders and their guns primed* If it's any consolation, this is one of (if not the) longest chapter I've written yet! *throws chapter at the angry horde and bolts*

Chapter 9: 

Birds of a Feather Flock Together Part 3

Skyfire stepped into the relatively small and cramped Security Hub. To any other mech on the Ark, this room was a normal sized (if somewhat cluttered) office with a very high ceiling and two entire walls dedicated to nothing but screens upon screens of the various activities of the Ark.

The Monitor Room (as it was dubbed by the mass population of the Ark) was pentagonal in shape, with the door located directly opposite the two monitor walls. The entire room was a warm brownish-gold color, tinted blue from the numerous video feeds. Datapads were stacked almost haphazardly against the far wall, though the filing archives hidden behind sliding panels in the walls should have had ample space to hold them all. Underneath the monitors, a console spanned the entire length of the two walls, covered in knobs, buttons, sliders, and a half-finished energon cube. Four chairs sat in front of the massive walls of monitors, ideally so that four pairs of optics could keep watch over the entire Ark.

Not that Red Alert ever _really_ needed another three sets to help him.

"Hello, Skyfire," Red Alert said flatly, his optics not leaving the monitors. He sounded bored and looked it too, judging from the way his elbows were leaning on the console. He picked up the energon cube and sipped it without looking at what his hands were doing.

"Hello," Skyfire replied, looking down. "Sorry to bother you, but Perceptor–"

"Sent you up here to pick up the new roster because your duties have been changed around but Perceptor couldn't tell you exactly what the changes were only that they involved coming to me directly to pick them up." Red Alert said, almost automatically. His optics roved from one end of the screen wall to the other. "That _is_ what Perceptor said, correct?"

"How did–?" Skyfire began, surprised.

"You should talk to Spike and Carly more often." He said, typing quick commands into Teletraan to monitor for any noticeably and unnoticeably suspicious behavior. "They are full of random, but sometimes useful information. They taught me about a human trick called 'lip-reading.' Apparently, since the human mouth makes distinct shapes when speaking words, memorizing those shapes can reveal what someone is saying even if one cannot hear. Since we have adopted the humans' languages, it has proven useful on those of us with mouths. And since audio can't always be captured, well…" Red Alert spun his chair around. His legs were crossed at the knee and his fingers were loosely intertwined. Skyfire couldn't help imagining the air of smug superiority that accompanied Red Alert's posture. "Let's say I've been practicing."

"On Perceptor." Skyfire deadpanned.

Red Alert frowned and gave Skyfire an exasperated look. "He's the only one on the screens who actually uses words no one else recognizes without consulting a human dictionary. It helps me recognize longer, obscure words."

"Okay…" Skyfire said. "If you say so."

"I do say so." Red Alert replied, still frowning. "Now, he said you needed a schedule." Red Alert spun around and fiddled with a few controls on the panel in front of him. "Hold on."

As Red Alert typed away, Skyfire turned his attention to the security feeds.

It had been a rather slow day for him. His research into new energy conversions for energon just barely kept his attention focused for more than a breem or two. Strict chemo-physics had never been his favorite subject. It would be much more interesting to study the natural life on this planet and discover just how life could form with such flimsy materials. Sure, carbon could be extremely soft or hard depending upon its structure, but this planet's life seemed to be made of nothing but the stuff! It was mind-boggling to see it in such abundance and with lasting effects!

But no. He was stuck in the middle of a war that had happened overnight and all that was important was making sure everyone had enough to eat, only studying humans and their strange planet through the few glimpses he got of them. The Decepticons made it doubly difficult to study anything what with their almost bi-weekly attacks on the humans' energy resources.

The Decepticons obviously weren't attacking now, not with the fiasco of the other day. Starsc– They would have one hell of a time attempting to organize themselves without any clear command structure nor any commanding officers. Hopefully, they would attempt a coup and destroy themselves. Not to mention, what would be the fate of the three femmes? The Ark was still abuzz with rumors, explanations, and other what-not that Skyfire never really cared much about. Still, listening to the rumor mills had kept his mind occupied and informed.

His optics drifted lazily from one monitor to the next, keeping him distracted from the three screens everyone wanted to see most.

According the monitors (which missed nothing), Prime was in the Medbay, trying and failing to not wince as Ratchet grabbed his jaw tightly, blue lights from a welder dancing across the walls. Ratchet, judging by how fast his mouth was moving, was cursing/lecturing Optimus on proper prisoner protocol. He smiled slightly at all the jovial faces in the Rec Room and how the resident engineer seemed to notice he was being watched by a close friend and waved at the security camera above the desk in his lab before heading out. On another monitor, the Twins ran down a hallway on the fourth level, a multicolored Tracks on their heels.

Oh, and for the record, Prowl looks _horrible_ in lime green.

The SIC wasn't too far behind the Twins and Tracks and he looked even angrier than Megatron on a bad day. And speaking of Megatron and bad days…

His optics inadvertently drifted to a monitor almost smack dab in the middle of the massive walls of screens. Megatron sat in the middle of the back wall (indicating that the camera was over the door) and the perpetual scowl never wavered as she spoke angrily to someone below the camera's view. Her movements were awkward as she crossed her arms over her protruding chest, bumping into it on more than one occasion and the heat waves around her face gave away her embarrassment. Even though he couldn't hear what the mech below the camera was saying, (though Red Alert was too paranoid to not have the entire heavy detention cell wired so that not even a speck of dust landed without his knowledge), it gave Skyfire just a little satisfaction to see her brought low.

Skyfire stopped suddenly when his gaze shifted one monitor over.

Starscream was shouting at someone below the camera and Skyfire was pretty sure that hand gesture was banned on several planets.

He was still not able to comprehend that his best fri- no, the Decepticon Second in Command, was a femme! Aside from the fact that it was a quandary that was the talk of the Science/Development Division, it was impossible for anyone to become a femme! There was no scientific explanation and he highly doubted that any outside forces could have interfered. Not only would their orbital sentries have been on the fritz if anything unregistered came to Earth, all the mechs on the battlefield would have seen it.

Starscream swiped her claws in the direction of the camera, his- _her_ optics wild and fangs bared.

Skyfire could not help but feel both repulsed and sickly intrigued by Starscream's actions. Sure, Starscream hadn't exactly been a social mech when they first met, but the flippant, always curious scientist he'd come to respect had been on relatively good terms with many mechs. His spark ached as his best friend vanished before his optics. Now all that seemed to be there in Starscream's place was this power-hungry, traitorous, cowardly, sadistic ego-maniac.

What the hell happened to him? Not the femme situation. That explained itself (up to a certain point, but that would be rectified soon enough). Rather, what had really happened to Starscream to make him/her such a monster? How did Starscream become so brutal, so vicious, that he would give up his one passion for power? And have such a disregard for the dignity and lives of others?

Skyfire's optics turned to Megatron's cell again.

_Megaton…_

Of course. Why did Skyfire not see it before? It was _Megatron_ that caused it all! Starscream's personality change, the war, the destruction of their home planet, everything! A hatred Skyfire was not used to feeling rose in his chest. It burned white-hot in his spark as he imagined how events transpired after he crashed. Megatron had formed an army of evil, crazed mechs. Leading them on with insane ideas of power, they tore through their calm world, turning other mechs into monsters, friends into enemies, and life into death. She (then a he) had not stopped until all cities, knowledge, art, culture, _Cybertron_ itself, was gone and their species was on the brink of extinction, leaving nothing but a barren wasteland of an ancient civilization behind.

What, in Primus's good name, did she stand _to gain_ from this pointless civil war?

Fame?

Power?

_Control?_

She deserved to die, he decided. The universe would be better off without her. The Decepticon cause would collapse, those evil mechs would disband or destroy themselves, and the Autobots could return Cybertron to the way it was before.

But before that, he would deal with her his own way…

As slowly and as painfully as he could…

"Skyfire, will you stop growling! You're aggravating my glitch."

Skyfire jumped internally, his hatred pushed back temporarily. Red Alert was looking at him over his shoulder, glaring openly, optics suspicious. His horns were glowing a faint blue. Skyfire could only imagine the conspiracy theories and crazed ideas going through his head.

"Sorry," Skyfire said, looking at the floor, pushing his murderous feelings away. "It's been a long day, and I'm rather tired. My mind wandered." Skyfire had somehow forgotten Red Alert was still in the room while his mind ran to the very places he had wanted to avoid. A mighty feat, forgetting about Red Alert, considering he practically _lived_ in the Monitor Room.

"I don't doubt it." Red Alert said flatly. His eyes narrowed and he typed something onto the console, keeping his optics on Skyfire. "But this is no time for you to be tired. You have work to do. Especially since it's not every day you get to see an old friend."

Skyfire's head snapped up.

"What?" He said, shocked. Hope rose in him. "Who!"

Red alert got up from his chair, his entire posture distrusting. He held out the duty roster. The hope died in Skyfire and was replaced by painful acceptance. It was just more duties that would bring him in contact with other Autobots. Or Decepticons.

It depended on who thought Skyfire's 'old friends' were.

Skyfire took the roster and examined it with sad optics.

_Allocation of Duties to All Available Mechs _

_(First shift beginning at 0800 hours; Second shift at 1400 hours; Third at 2000; Fourth at 0200 local time.)_

_First Shift_

_Monitor Duty: Cliffjumper, Windcharger_

_Inventory: Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Bumblebee_

_Maintenance: Wheeljack, Mirage_

_Sky Spy Watch: Cosmos, Smokescreen, Huffer_

_Cleaning Duty: At Prowl's discretion_

_Autobot Liaison to Human arrivals: Hound, Beachcomber, _

_Energon Guard duty: Trailbreaker, Skids, Brawn, Gears… et al._

_Patrol Area 1: Jazz, Blaster, Tracks_

_Patrol Area 2: Silverbolt… et al., Blades_

Skyfire continued down the list, from patrol duty of the various regions near and dear to the base to shower scrubbing duty for the next three shifts. He reached the bottom and looked up at Red Alert, confused.

"Red Alert," he said slowly, unsure of just what was going on, "I am not on this list. And I know I wasn't cleared for any time off-duty." Red Alert snatched the data pad out of his hands and threw it back on top of the precarious pile next to the wall.

"Exactly." Red Alert said flatly, optics narrowed. "If you're not on the general duty list, then obviously you were cleared for guard duty."

Skyfire shuttered his optics a few times in rapid succession. He found his vocal processors a while later.

"G-guard duty?" He said shakily.

Red Alert nodded.

"… Starscream?" He almost whispered.

"Give the Bot an energon cube." Red Alert clapped his hands sarcastically, utterly displeased. "You're off to guard Starscream as soon as the shift changes." His tone and optics became icy. "But let me clarify a few things for you." The Autobot security director stood before Skyfire, and extremely serious look occupying his face plates.

"Frankly," He began, his tone lecturing, horns sparking ominously, "I do not trust you to be put in the same room as Starscream. Decepticons have a way of taking advantage of comrades, friends, family, what have you. And, while they get along with each other like water and oil, Decepticons will help each other if both benefit." Skyfire nodded, not entirely sure why Red Alert brought up that last comment.

Red Alert continued. "First, under no circumstances are you to be unarmed. You must have a weapon trained on Starscream at all times."

Skyfire nodded stiffly.

"Second, because of your shared pasts, do not for one moment, think that Starscream is the same mech you remember."

"Well," Skyfire couldn't help quipping, "considering he's now a _she_, that won't be too difficult."

Red Alert smirked in amusement, despite himself. "Okay. So, I may have set myself up for that one, but," Red Alert's seriousness returned in an instant, "don't think for one moment that you could try and reform her. Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon. "

Skyfire's spinal relay stiffened involuntarily.

He got the distinct feeling Red Alert was also talking about him. He was _technically_ a former Decepticon… even if it had only been for twelve hours…

"And finally," Red Alert said, ignoring Skyfire's discomfort, "do not engage Starscream. Don't talk to her. Don't get near her. Don't even make any indication that you're watching her every move. From our security Intel over the vorns, she'll do anything to get attention and then take advantage of it. That includes our mechs, her mechs, humans, and any other being capable of higher CPU functions."

Skyfire already know about Starscream's love of attention. It had gotten both into trouble more often than not back in the day. He could distinctly remember the look on the instructor's face when Starscream brought–

Skyfire promptly slapped himself and forced the memory away.

Red Alert stomped over to a pile of dadapads against the far wall and pulled one out seemingly at random from the middle of the huge stack. He swiped it out so quickly the top of the stack didn't lose balance and just fell neatly onto the lower half of the stack.

"Here's a copy of the guard duty times and roster." Red Alert said in a business like tone, giving the data-pad to Skyfire. "It'll update when shifts have been changed or times rearranged. You're shift starts at 2000 hours local human time. You are to relieve Jazz. Until then," he walked back to the console, "Perceptor told me to tell you that he and the others are going to Blast Room D-14 for experiments regarding our guests' condition. Go see what he needs."

With that, Red alert plopped himself down in his chair, swiveled around to face the monitors, propped his peds up onto the console, and seemingly ignored Skyfire.

"Thank you, Red Alert," Skyfire said. He left the monitor room and headed off to Blast Room D-14, attempting to shrug off the feeling of every camera watching him and keep his mind away from a certain red seeker.

* * *

In the lower decks of the Ark, closer to the bow, Skyfire walked down the enormous corridor toward the more dangerous (yet probably most secure) section of the Autobots' base. I say enormous corridor because even Skyfire felt small. At least the height of Devastator (who was about three times Skyfire's height) and about twice as wide, this corridor was designed with movement in mind, to allow mechs running to the safety of the Blast Rooms to get there and not block the way of the mechs behind them. The reinforced Cybertronium-lutetium alloy was nigh indestructible, able to withstand a couple nuclear explosions and still be as pristine as ever.

Trust me, the Decepticons have tried.

Multiple times.

The Blast Rooms themselves were herculean feats of engineering. Multiple doors led off the main corridor, which itself branched into seven corridors. Each room was basically a large square room, built for functionality rather than cosmetic value. Most rooms contained energon given by the humans, or tools and spare parts. Others were empty and never used. A few contained medical supplies and emergency rations. One was reserved solely for Wheeljack's experiments.

The infamous Blast Room D-14.

Most if not all of Wheeljack's experimental inventions had to be confined to a Blast Room or tested outside in battle, and never to be activated anywhere on base (except maybe his lab. Maybe). Ratchet, Grapple, and Hoist have fewer headaches that way.

And it made the ship presentable to guests.

Try convincing smaller, alien beings that you are harmless and there is nothing to fear from your presence on their planet while multiple explosions are going off in the background, smoke pouring out of the ventilation shafts, and someone continually shouting "I swear I didn't kill anyone this time, Prime!"

It's not good for your species' image.

Skyfire sighed tiredly as he wondered just what Perceptor thought he could do to help Wheeljack. Their fields of expertise were vastly different and Skyfire was never much of an engineer anyway. He'd much rather study structures already in place, not create more. He also never had the talent for mechanical creativity. It fascinated him on how sentient mechanical life and organic life formed, not how could he make his own mechanical/organic marvels.

Also, biology tended to be a lot less explosive, but that had no influence on his career choice.

None at all.

Skyfire stopped outside Blast Room D-14 and quickly typed in the code on the keypad. Several beeps sounded as the multiple, reinforced locks opened and the door slid upward with a neat hiss. He stepped inside and–

"HIT THE DECK!"

Now, Skyfire may not have been with the Autobots long, but that didn't mean he didn't know when to duck when the order came.

He dived out of the room and braced against the wall, wings wrapped around him protectively, not a moment too soon. Whatever was in that room exploded in a fireball of gas, smoke, and flame and shot out into the corridor. Skyfire cried out as the fire seared his wings and legs. A split second later, thick, black smoke unfurled throughout the area and hung in the air.

Malfunctioning intakes (similar to a human's cough) resounded through the haze.

"Everyone alive!" The coughing mech called.

"Still here!" Skyfire called out, unfurling his wings gingerly, wincing when the derma plating cracked. His HUD beeped up a status report. A quick scan revealed that there was nothing wrong with him other than scorched paint, cracked derma plating, and an overheated frame. Nothing life-threatening, his HUD decided and went quiet. Skyfire shouted through the doorway, "You haven't killed anyone with these explosions yet, Wheeljack."

"Ratchet would be inclined to disagree!"

A charred, soot covered hand gripped the edge of the door frame and Wheeljack peered around, coughing as his intakes attempted to clear out the smoke from his insides. Smoke obscured his lower half, but what little of Wheeljack he could see through the undoubtedly hazardous fumes was covered in burnt paint and scorched armor. The stench of ozone and burnt rubber hung around his frame like a miasma.

"Hey Skyfire," Wheeljack coughed, ears flashing, "I see you got the message Perceptor left with Red Alert." His frame creaked and sparks flew out of one shoulder. Wheeljack didn't seem perturbed by his many injuries– when did he ever? Instead the eccentric engineer just grinned behind his mask. His optics lit up in that way that showed he was extremely pleased despite the black walls, floor, and mechs around him.

Skyfire looked at him, worry clear in his optics. Normal mechs don't just up and walk away from explosions! He opened his mouth and was halfway through "Wheeljack, are you okay!" but Wheeljack cut him off with a nonchalant wave of his charred hand.

"I'm fine!" He said, trying to cover his accidental explosion wit half-afted humor. "The materials were just a bit eager to begin! But enough about errant fusion cannons!" Wheeljack's tone turned concerned. "What about you? You weren't hurt, were you?"

Skyfire shook his head. "It's only cosmetic damage." He replied. "Nothing a few welds and a quick coat of paint won't fix." As if on cue, his wing throbbed, his HUD beeped several times, and a few chips of paint fell to the floor. Wheeljack watched them float down and land gently. He gave Skyfire a look reminiscent of Ratchet.

"Oh." He said, an optic ridge rising. "Really?"

"Wheeljack," Skyfire said flatly and frowned. He pointed an accusing finger at Wheeljack. "You're the one who was in the middle of the explosion. You are a bit more important."

Wheeljack waved him off with a flick of his broken wrist. "I've survived worse." He said, grinning. "Besides, Ratchet's still repairing Optimus at the moment. I don't want to bother him with minor things." He shuddered with a cross between disgust and fear. He hobbled through the door frame and placed a hand on his giant friend's arm. With surprising strength for an injured mech (or maybe Skyfire was just being nice and going along with him), Wheeljack pulled Skyfire through the doorway.

"Besides, I kinda need some help in cleaning this mess up." He laughed nervously, motioning to the smoky room behind him. "Ratchet's comin' down after he's done fixing Optimus and I really, _really_ don't want him to come after me with a welder!" He shuddered again.

"Sure," Skyfire said. There wasn't much else to say. He was still shaken from the explosion, mentally if not physically.

"Great!" Wheeljack said and hobbled further into the smoke filled room. Skyfire followed him, exterior armor creaking ominously.

"Now, there's only a couple things in here that need fixing and finding." Wheeljack raised a finger and waved it around aimlessly. "The tables, the energy equipment– hopefully those survived,– a couple datapads with energy readings, Perceptor, my fusion cannon, the rock and air samples from the blast site–"

Wheeljack fell forward a little when Skyfire stopped abruptly.

Wheeljack looked back at him, confused. "What?" He asked, optics taking on a worried look.

"Did you say Perceptor?" Skyfire said, disbelieving. There's no way in the Nine Vats of the Pit that Perceptor would have gotten out of an explosion like that without serious injuries that would require Ratchet's immediate attention.

Warnings and stupidity be damned, if Perceptor was hurt, Skyfire would make sure that Ratchet saw to him, regardless of the consequences or the tirades.

Oblivious to Skyfire's internal oath of helping, Wheeljack shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah, he's not here yet." Wheeljack said. "Perceptor said something about talking to Optimus before coming down here. I don't know if Ratchet had let him through to see Optimus though, and if he did, well…" Wheeljack trailed off, not sure just what to say. "I guess he's taking a while. Thus, we need to find him." He shrugged and continued walking, dragging Skyfire behind him.

Skyfire sighed in relief. So Perceptor hadn't been in that explosion, praise be to the Almighty Primus. He felt better knowing his best friend was okay. Maybe not in the best of places, knowing Ratchet's volume and proximity to and proficiency with wrenches, but definitely better than in BR D-14.

As they continued into the room, a table came into view. There were several monitors and rock samples scattered all across it and several energon cubes stacked haphazardly nearby. Wheeljack let go of Skyfire's arm and hobbled off into the smoke, calling over his shoulder. "I'll find the vents. Do you mind organizing that desk and making sure everything's there? There should be a datapad with the entire list somewhere nearby."

"Alright." Skyfire said, leaning against the table. He picked up the datapad Wheeljack mentioned and quickly assessed that everything was there, although in a much more jumbled fashion than any respectable Cybertronian scientist would ever allow. He noted the multiple sedimentary and igneous rock types, the quartz from the desert, slightly charred plant life, a Saguaro (which was weird since Saguaros only grew in the Sonoran Desert several hundred miles south of the battlefield, but Skyfire had learned not to ask), what looked like a hoo-doo, and several energon cubes.

Skyfire rearranged the table to look presentable and took the energon cubes away from the other ingredients. Basic safety protocols had to be followed.

Just because Wheeljack, Perceptor, Ratchet, and the others in the Science Division were careless, didn't mean that Skyfire was. He still followed the standard Cybertronian lab safety rules and Rule #1,902,384 said _No energon is allowed in or near the experiment area, unless used in the experiment (see Rules #234,803,948-234,804,000)._

This is not to say that Skyfire didn't think that his fellow Autobots were careless, just stupid when it came to safety. He'd been with the Autobots long enough to know that their Science Division mechs were top of the line and twice as crazy. Coupled with a general disregard for the more proper, advanced safety protocols, one could get the best (and most insane) inventions in the galaxy in half the time and with twice the trips to the Medbay.

Prime's personal brain trust indeed.

Several beeps sounded through the room and the large overhead fans turned on and drew the smoke up and out. Wheeljack waved merrily from the other side of the room, thumbs up, before skipping off to clean up. As to _why_ Wheeljack was so happy, Skyfire wasn't sure. He stared around the room, partially horrified.

With said smoke gone, the extent of the wreckage was far more devastating that initially thought. Crates were scattered all over the place, soot clung to everything from the walls to the ceilings, shards of metal, glass, and several other objects Skyfire couldn't identify littered the ground. Wheeljack dragged some twisted metal out from behind one of the luckier stacks of crates, mumbling something Skyfire couldn't hear (indicated by his flashing head-fins).

Skyfire walked through the wreckage, picking up measuring equipment, remote detonators, and other things Skyfire thought looked like Cybertronian insides. As per Wheeljack's shouted instructions, unsalvageable slag went in the far corner to be recycled, salvageable slag went next to the door to the hallway for repairs, and working slag went near another door that lead off into the Command Center.

Now, I feel as though everyone needs another lowdown lest confusion sets in before I want it to.

As stated before, each Blast Room was just a really big room for storage and this one definitely had several crates in it. As to their contents, Ratchet always said something about extra frame parts, but Skyfire wasn't completely convinced, although he had no desire to confirm Ratchet's claim. In regards to D-14's second purpose, it was modified to protect mechs from any unnecessary harm due to… um, unforeseen circumstances with prototype inventions. It had a heavily reinforced wall built into it, dividing the normally large room into a slightly smaller room, and a Command Center for Wheeljack and anyone with him to hide in when the inventions went BOOM, as they normally did. The Command Center had several tables, a couple Cybertronian size chemistry sets, a computer terminal, and a large window to observe an invention's purpose or explosion.

The explosions are always fun to watch. It's being _inside_ explosions that normally drove mechs away.

Skyfire quickly herded Wheeljack's working slag into the Command Center and left it in a back corner before helping Wheeljack get everything else into some semblance of working order.

Several breems later, the Blast Room was ready for experimentation and explosions.

"So." Skyfire said, leaning against a crate with his arms crossed, as Wheeljack aimed his fusion cannon at a poor piece of earth from the battlefield, "what exactly do you need me for? You know I have limited knowledge of weaponry and chemistry." He sincerely hoped that they didn't ask about Sta– chemical formulas or the physics behind recombining molecules. They were boring on Cybertron, they were boring on Earth, and he never really remembered things that bored him. Also, his processor running at a terabyte a second with random scenarios concerning exploding mechs thanks to a broken safety rule did not help his frazzled sensory diodes at all.

"You're a biologist." Wheeljack said simply, lining up the scope with the unfortunate rock. "We need to know exactly what a large infusion of energy does to a mech frame. And you're the only one with enough knowledge of biology to know what happens."

Skyfire raised an optic ridge. Wasn't this Ratchet'sarea of expertise? Shouldn't the _medic_, who knew a mech's insides better than he did, be doing this?

But then again… If Skyfire's brief stay taught him anything, it was _do not_ bother the medic when he was repairing a mech. You could distract Ratchet from a very delicate operation and then lose a comrade and then have to deal with Ratchet's murderous tirade afterward. It was best to just let Ratchet finish his job, let him yell at the stupid repaired mech in question, let him give the dumb mech a heavy dent on the helm, and then can you go speak to the medic. By that time most of the murderous intent should be hidden behind some semblance of relief.

Besides, Prime was in the Bay now. Ratchet would be in Lecture Mode for a long time. Now wasn't the best time to ask Ratchet anything.

"I'll tell you what I know, but it is not a lot." Skyfire warned as Wheeljack walked over to the samples table and bent over to write something down. Wheeljack didn't look perturbed and just smiled at his large flying friend, motioning him to begin.

Skyfire sighed (not entirely convinced why he was here) and said. "Exactly what a large infusion of energy does depends upon the type of energy used. If it's energon, then there's revitalization. Most systems will use the extra energon to either repair any damage or convert it into a highly concentrated form for energy storage." He paused as Wheeljack nodded his head and mumbled something Skyfire didn't catch. Wheeljack quickly wrote down a couple notes on a datapad and motioned for Skyfire to continue.

"If it is electricity," Skyfire said, "depending upon the entry point and voltage, it could cause death, numbing, or burns. If it's most other kinds of energy (once again depending upon entry point and amount of energy) then it can cause a lot of damage, mostly in the form of an explosion." He gave Wheeljack a quick, slightly confused look, then said. "You don't need a scientist to figure most of that out."

"Yeah," Wheeljack said distractedly as he finished writing on the datapad. He stood up and walked over to his fusion cannon. He fiddled with a couple settings on the fusion cannon before admitting. "But the thing is, we're not exactly sure what _kind_ of energy we're dealing with."

Skyfire paused.

"Excuse me?" He said after a moment. "What do you mean you don't know?" Maybe the Science Division mechs were sloppier than he initially thought. "You built that fusion cannon. Don't you know what it does?"

Wheeljack straightened and rubbed the back of his helm, his optics crinkling in a frown.

"But that's the thing." Wheeljack said, turning to his large friend. "I know _exactly_ what type of energy this cannon gives off." He rapped it with a knuckle. Skyfire flinched, expecting it to explode. Wheeljack didn't seem to notice. "But the records we recovered from Teletraan say it's a different kind of energy. Completely different from fusion energy in fact. Helms up."

He tossed a datapad Skyfire's way. Skyfire inadvertently played Hot Potato with it, but managed to catch it with both hands.

Skyfire turned the datapad over and reviewed its contents carefully. According to it, the energy was a new kind, very similar to fusion energy, but not. Its concentrated energy signature was off the scale of fusion, but it had the characteristics of fusion. Atoms recombined and the subsequent energy was let loose in one giant burst, but extra molecules that should not (and could not) have formed, did.

Namely cybertronium bonded with oxygen, titanium, lutetium, and carbon.

"Wheeljack," Skyfire said calmly, not looking up from the datapad. "Are you sure Teletraan is not glitching?"

"Positive." Wheeljack replied, crossing his arms. "Ratchet scanned Teletraan when it gave us this data. _That_," he pointed to the datapad, "is the energy signature and resulting molecules of the explosion that turned Megatron and company into femmes."

Skyfire stared at Wheeljack incredulously.

"But cybertronium needs a _huge_ amount of energy to bond with anything!" He cried.

"Precisely." A new voice said. Wheeljack and Skyfire turned to look at the newcomer in the doorway.

"Hey Percy!" Wheeljack said happily. Skyfire nodded his head in greeting.

"Good evening, Skyfire, Wheeljack." Perceptor said. The small scientist walked into the Blast Room, dragging disproportionately large piece of machinery from his lab behind him. "I see that I have, as some say, 'not missed any of the fun.'" He said.

"Nope, you've come just in time." Wheeljack said, skipping over to help Perceptor push the hulking machine into the room. "And you've brought the energy disintegrator! Excellent!" Wheeljack clapped happily. "I've was wondering what I was missing!"

Skyfire watched this exchange with a little bit of apprehension. Seriously, he was wondering about the Science Division's pretense for disaster at this point.

With their combined efforts, Perceptor and Wheeljack pushed the energy disintergrator to the samples table and set it up next to the fusion cannon. They took several cables from the disintegrator and plugged them into the fusion cannons revealed internal workings.

"So did you manage to talk to Optimus about whatever it was you wanted?" Wheeljack said, fiddling with several controls on the disintegrator.

"No. Ratchet has declined all guests." Perceptor said, organizing the samples and energy montiors. "He said something about 'teaching the Prime a lesson in intelligence,' though I highly doubt wrenches to the cranium are in anyway beneficial to overall mental stability. I will meet with Prime when he is fully repaired."

"Good idea." Wheeljack said. "Ratchet said he'd be down after he was finished repairing Prime. You could probably talk with him then." Wheeljack primed the energy disintegrator and took initial readings of the

Skyfire sat on the sidelines through this entire exchange. He felt a little useless, but knew that Wheeljack and Perceptor were far better suited to setting up the experimentation area than he was. After all, it was their experiment.

Two breems and a few polite small-talk conversations later, the entire experimentation area was set up, unnecessary samples were moved to the Command Center, and all extraneous materials stored away for later use. The three mechs retired to the Command Center where Wheeljack and Perceptor primed the terminals and set up the remote detonators.

"Now," Perceptor said, seated at a table. "Where were you both in your discussion before I had arrived?"

"We were discussing how different energy types affected a mech's frame and theorizing about the energy signature Teletraan gave us." Skyfire said, glad to finally have something to do.

"Indeed." Perceptor nodded and smiled at Skyfire. He began their conversation where they had left off. "The only immediate source of cybertronium on this planet is from Cybertronian frames." He stated, resting his chin on his hands, elbows on the table. "I believe Megatron and his minions provided the cybertronium found in the energy report."

"Alright," Skyfire said, getting to the question he really wanted to ask. "But what gave the cybertronium atoms enough energy to overcome the activation threshold?"

"That is a good question." Wheeljack said, walking over to the table from the large window and sitting down. "I think the energy that turned the Decepticons into femmes could have caused the bonding. There was enough of the stuff to allow cybertronium to bond. And it _is_ a fusion cannon. Combining molecules and releasing the resulting energy is what it does."

"But it's impossible." Skyfire insisted from his little corner of the table. Both Wheeljack and Perceptor turned to him. "Fusion energy isn't enough. You would need at least _ten times_ the amount of energy given off by your cannon to bond cybertronium. Not to mention, there is no way a simple explosion or any kind of energy would suddenly turn a mech into a femme." He raised a finger. "For one thing, they have different frame structures, not to mention mech and femme sparks are completely different in strength. You would have to somehow change the base nature of the spark of a mech to get a femme and then make extensive renovations to the frame."

There was a pregnant pause while Wheeljack and Perceptor stared at him blankly. Skyfire shifted in his seat. What were they staring at? Wasn't it common knowledge what made a femme different from a mech? He suddenly became very interested in the small rock sample in the fusion cannon's target range outside the window and tried to ignore Wheeljack and Perceptor's stares.

"Well," Wheeljack said, breaking that awkward silence, "we know the Decepticons' frames changed, so maybe their sparks changed as well."

Even Wheeljack had to admit the words sounded quite silly coming out of his vocal processor.

"What has the ability to alter a spark?" Perceptor said, voicing everyone's thoughts. He was about to go on with that train of thought, but stopped and shook his head lightly. "No. Basic information is imperative to answering scientific inquiries." He looked up at Skyfire. "Tell us, Skyfire, what are the specific differences between a mech and femme?"

Skyfire shuddered his optics rapidly and his mouth hung open stupidly. Perceptor and Wheeljack exchanged a quick glance.

"… Don't you know?" Skyfire said, incredulously, several tense moments later. Okay, Skyfire _knew_ that the Autobot scientists weren't well versed in Cybertronian anatomy, but _really_? Not knowing the differences between a mech and a femme? Skyfire was halfway convinced that either being on Earth had scrambled their cerebral circuits, or common knowledge wasn't all that common among the mechs of the _Ark_.

There was a deep sigh from both Autobot mechs and they exchanged another glance.

"Skyfire," Wheeljack began lightly, looking back up at his friend, "I know you missed out on a lot of the war, but…" He paused then went on. "Femmes are a nigh extinct species now. There are only seven or eight femmes left in the Autobot ranks, all of whom are on Cybertron. As of our latest intelligence, there are no femmes in the Decepticon ranks."

"No one on the Ark has seen a femme in quite some time." Perceptor continued. "I believe several mechs saw Optimus Prime's mate before we departed, but other than that rare glimpse, the last time anyone saw a femme was during the first stages of the war."

Skyfire's optics widened in horror. _Almost all of the femmes are gone?_ He thought incredulously. He knew that the Cybertronian population had been decimated by the war, but an entire subgroup completely wiped out! It had been barely six orns ago that he saw femmes everywhere on the streets of Cybertron, and now he's told they're all extinct? He could barely comprehend such a vast number declining in such a short amount of time!

_But then again… _A darker part of Skyfire's mind stated calmly. _It wasn't a short amount of time, was it? _

Vorns upon vorns had passed while Skyfire had remained rooted in the same time. Life-changing events occurred without his knowledge, without _him_, transforming all he knew into a nightmarish world of uncertainty and warfare.

Sometimes, the realization of what Skyfire had missed while frozen in the ice hit his spark harder than when he first woke up.

"Ratchet would be better at explaining the differences than I," Skyfire began quietly, not looking directly at Wheeljack or Perceptor, "but I will tell you what I know." He cleared his vocal processor and began.

"To start, there is nigh negligible difference between the energy, formation, and maintenance of a mech or femme spark." He said to clear up any misconceptions beforehand. "The main defining difference is the density of the spark energy. Femme sparks are far denser than mech sparks."

He saw the question on Perceptor's lip components and answered before he could ask it. "Femme sparks are roughly one and a half to two times denser than a mech's spark. Higher concentrations of the energy are one of the main reasons femmes last longer than mechs and do not require as much energon as mechs.

"They still need it!" He said quickly as Wheeljack was about to speak. "But whereas one mech needs two cubes, a femme needs about one and a half. A slight difference." Wheeljack remained silent, his question answered. Skyfire went on. "Other than that, the other main difference is color. Most sparks are blue, but femme sparks can be blue or white, and in some rare cases, yellow or pink.

"The frames are a bit more complicated. Femme frames are generally slimmer and smaller than a mech frame, but again, like with the sparks, the armor is very dense and sometimes very heavy, especially in the chest area. Their hydraulic systems are more powerful in their legs than their arms to deal with the extra dense armor. Sensory programs and processing protocols are slightly different, more oriented toward details and horizontal thinking, whereas mechs are more think more linearly." He paused for a moment so that everything sank in. "Those are main traits to of a femme. Not all femmes are like this, so the spark strength is the most defining feature."

He let out a small sigh before continuing. 'That's why I say it is impossible for a mech to become a femme. You would have to find spark energy and combine it with an already existing spark to create a femme spark then reprogram the mind of the mech in question. The frame could stay the same. It cannot be done by a simple explosion."

Wheeljack nodded at Skyfire's words, scribbling very, very quickly across a datapad. "At this point," he said, still scribbling "we know that some weird energy was on the battlefield and it was the same kind of energy in the explosion that turned Megatron and his cronies into femmes. We also know their frames have changed. Their spark status is unknown." Wheeljack paused, quietly assessing what he just said. "We're really going to need Ratchet to have a look at them." He said finally.

"I feared that would be so." Perceptor said. "It does not bode well for us to allow such dangerous mechs to be out of captivity. I'll contact Ratchet and ask his imput before going onto to meet Optimus Prime. His repairs should be complete now."

"Okay." Wheeljack said. He finished writing on the datapad with a flourish and put the datapad in a subspace pocket. He smiled at Skyfire and gave him a thumbs up. Skyfire felt pretty good. Even though it was only common knowledge he gave them, he was glad to have helped with their hypothesis.

Perceptor (happy that they were making some headway into the femme situation) placed a hand against his helm, activated his comm. link, and said, "Autobot Perceptor to Ratchet, come in Ratch–"

"YOU ABSOLUTE _IDIOT!_" A mech's voice roared through Perceptor's helm. He squaked in surprise and the poor scientist toppled over in sheer surprise. He landed on the floor with a loud _BANG!_ and accidentally switched on his internal speakers. Skyfire and Wheeljack nearly fell over themselves as a voice screamed out of Perceptor's helm.

"THE STUPIDITY I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH! STARSCREAM DOESN'T NEED TO BE PROVOKED! DIDN'T I SEND YOU A MEMO **THIS MORNING** SAYING_**NOT TO PROVOKE THE DECEPTICONS**__! _NOW, GET YOUR AFT TO THE MEDBAY!"

Ratchet's dulcet tones were unmistakable. As were Jazz's drowned out pleas.

Perceptor's helm was shaking with the force of Ratchet's yells. Wheeljack covered his audios to block out the Hatchet's very vocal and cuss-filled tirade. He was yelling something about Jazz doing a terrible job of dealing with the Decepticons and how both leaders were absolutely _useless_ when it came to proper Decepticon prisoner protocol. Just because they've been asleep for four million years did not mean that treatment of Decepticon prisoners had changed.

Skyfire's HUD flashed with a new message from Red Alert. Skyfire's spark sank. He quickly pulled out the roster Red Alert had given him a couple hours ago. As he watched, the times on the roster shifted. The new time said that Skyfire's guard duty shift began _now_.

He was going to meet Starscream.

His best friend and sworn enemy.

His frazzled sensory diodes were going to explode.

"Aw, frag..." Wheeljack said, listening to his best friend shout and curse over every single frequency known to Autobot kind, while Perceptor laid in a daze with Ratchet's shouting scrambling his CPU.

Wheeljack's statement summed up Skyfire's feelings quite nicely.

* * *

_Just cycle air quietly, Skyfire. In, out. In, out._

To say Skyfire was nervous was the understatement of the vorn.

He walked stiffly down the corridor leading to some of the deepest, darkest areas of the _Ark._ The Brig's heavy detainment unit was located at the back of the massive ship, down a twisting path of heavily reinforced doors and more security cameras than any other section of the _Ark_. Skyfire's claustrophobia was starting to set in as the halls became progressively narrower and narrower.

He came to a large door and typed in a quick code into the panel nearby. The door slid upward quietly and he stepped into the ante-chamber. It was a simple rectangular room with five rooms leading off it, each door evenly spaced and labeled with the Cybertronian glyphs for one through five. Cell number five had a very sloppily hung and sloppily written sign on it. It read "Sunstreaker's Secondary Quarters."

Skyfire would rather not ask, though he felt as if he knew why the sign was there anyway.

"Hello Skyfire."

Skyfire resisted the urge to jump and turned his head and saw Prowl at a table covered in datapads next to the door. Prowl was no longer bright green, but whatever the twins has put in that paint had definitely left a greenish tint to the white of his armor. Skyfire decided against commenting on his paint. Prowl was writing something that looked like prisoner transportation blueprints. Prowl paused in his writing and icy blue optics stared at him, a neutral expression on his face. How Skyfire had missed the taciturn tactician, he wasn't entirely sure. Spike had once commented that Prowl was like a ninja, utterly silent unless you wanted him to know you were there.

"Hello, Prowl." Skyfire said politely. "I'm here to begin my shift."

Prowl nodded and stood up from the table. He walked to cell number two and pulled an unadorned keycard out of a subspace pocket and stood next to the door. Skyfire followed him and waited in front of the door for Prowl to open it.

Skyfire steeled himself for the confrontation. He hadn't seen Starscream for several battles now, but he knew exactly how Starscream felt at the moment.

Oh, you thought Skyfire hadn't heard Starscream's tirade when she first arrived? About her promise to kill him?

Please. That had been one of the first stories to go through the officers before reaching him. Skyfire knew _exactly_ what Starscream said and her feelings about their long standing friendship. Utter contempt and complete hatred for what they had been. His mind continued to drift along that avenue before Prowl placed a hand on his arm.

"Skyfire." Prowl said. Skyfire turned to him, pushing his darker thoughts away. "Be careful. Memories are more dangerous than you would think." He swiped the key card through the slot and there were several mechanical beeps as the door unlocked.

"I will be fine, Prowl." Skyfire replied. To emphasize his point, Skyfire pulled out the long black rifle he had been given when he had first joined the Autobots from its magnetic strip holster on his back. The rifle was nothing special, standard make and model, but it was one of the few things that marked him as an Autobot now. He had never held a gun before waking up and his first one had been from the Decepticons. The Autobots replaced his dual-barreled handgun with that rifle and taught him everything he needed to know about fighting. It wasn't pleasant, but it was a sign of his acceptance.

Prowl seemed to consider Skyfire's statement for a moment, then he placed his right hand on the scanner below the keycard slot and the door slid upward. Skyfire walked into Starscream's cell, wings nigh vertical.

The door slid shut behind him with a quiet _hiss._ Skyfire's blue optics illuminated the dark room, giving everything a cerulean tint. He did a quick sweep of the room (never having the pleasure of spending the day in one of these rooms) and took in the slick walls and chain pentagram on the back wall. His wings stiffened on reflex as his optics rested on Starscream's curled up form on the floor. She was in the far right corner, her back to Skyfire. Her position looked uncomfortable, with one wing lying on the floor while the other stood straight up. Flyers normally avoided such positions because their wings got in the way.

She wriggled and her wings twitched.

Skyfire tensed and stood stock still, waiting for her to turn around, acknowledge him, start shouting, cursing, and attacking him. He waited…

And waited…

And waited…

She didn't move. Her wings didn't even twitch as Skyfire continued to stare at her. Stiffly, Skyfire placed his rifle over the magnetic strip on his back and stepped as quietly as he could toward Starscream. Something his is processor told him it was a terrible idea to get this close to his old friend (who cared about Red Alert's warnings?), but… He knelt down next to her and scanned her still form quickly.

He found something that made his spark feel just a tiny bit lighter.

She was in recharge.

A light recharge, but recharge none the less.

Skyfire sighed in relief. He stood up and quickly went back to the other side of the room. Skyfire wasn't sure he would have been able to deal with Starscream. Memories of their time together in Vos and the Cybertronian Academy, with all their conflicting feelings, flooded his processor. He couldn't accept that Starscream was a warrior now. A killer. A femme who had sworn to kill him. Transformed into that monster by an even greater monster in the cell next to her. He paused and retrieved his rifle from its holder and held it tightly.

Prowl was right. He decided.

Memories were dangerous.

But he was not going to let them go any time soon.

He plopped down heavily in the guard's chair and leaned his head against the wall. He dimmed his optics and sent a quick prayer to Primus to allow Starscream to recharge for longer than he was on duty. He really didn't think his spark could handle Starscream's fiery, almost demonic, temperament. It really hurt when everything you know falls apart in front of you. When faced with it directly, especially someone very close to your spark, makes it a million times worse.

Where had his old friend gone in this hellish world he'd awoken in? Swallowed by some power-hungry egomaniac Pit-bent on the absolute domination and subjugation of the universe.

_May Megatron rust forever in the Pits._ He thought.

There was the sound of shifting metal and Skyfire's head snapped up, gripping his rifle so tightly his hydraulics strained with the effort. Starscream had turned over, now lying on her back and her face directed toward him. He stiffened, waiting for Starscream's russet, offline optics to brighten to that familiar glowing red and then for the Pit to be let loose.

Nothing happened for one breem.

Starscream's entire face was relaxed, no signs of the usual glower or evil look that resided there, and he could hear her intakes quietly whirring. Either she was deep in recharge, or she was very good at pretending not to notice the mech she had sworn to kill not a little more than two joors ago. Skyfire relaxed his grip and breathed out shakily.

Skyfire's face fell and his spark ached painfully..

He shook his head quietly and ignored the pain in his spark. This was war, he reasoned to himself. This was the future he had to live in. This was the way things were. No amount of hoping, wishing, or wanting would bring back his best friend. Starscream was a monster now. A murderer, a traitor, a Decepticon. Skyfire had chosen the Autobot path and now he had to live with that decision, as difficult as it was.

Skyfire stopped his train of thought. His spark was hurting too painfully to continue on that data track. He quietly initiated a standby mode so he could rest, but be ready at a moment's notice. He would not have to think about past pains or hurts.

But, he couldn't help thinking, even as his systems went to standby mode:

_I miss him so much…_

**Ending AN:** Dear Primus, that is depressing, but there you are. The dreaded Explination Chapter. I've probably given enough information in all of this to just about explain how Megs and Co became femmes. If you can't figure out how they became femmes by now, I'll clear it up later. There were some things I didn't mention. Yay personal canon that attempts to explain as much as possible about why gender in Transformers shouldn't be such a big deal. Woo.

And let me say this: Skyfire. Get a crazy personality will you? The straight guys are really hard to write unless they are surrounded by chaos and those who think the weird is normal. Like Thundercracker. You wouldn't want to end up like Thundercracker, would you? Surrounded by optics, war torn plans, and a headache the size of Primus's aft? Do you like that? If so, keep going. If not, accept the insanity around you. And also you are the most angsty character I've ever had the misfortune of writing.

To Readers: Please forgive any decrease in quality and laughter. *ducks sharp objects* My absence may have affected my writing and I'm none too pleased with the explanation aspect of this chapter. *avoids fusion blast and hurled energon cube*

Also, onto excuses if you want to read them, but you don't have too: I've been attempting to keep my grades up for college which I will be attending next year. So far I've applied to several schools and have the opportunity to get a full scholarship. But it's at my second-choice school. My first school deferred me from their Early Decision program to their Regular Decision program. I won't know until April if I'm going or not. Secondly, I fell out of the Transformers fandom for about ten months. Yes, I know. Shockingly horrible, isn't it? Couldn't write to save my own fat, useless aft. Thankfully, my muse has been returned to me and I will attempt to keep writing.

I hate this chapter. Really. I do. No laughter and a depressing ending. I want laughter. I need Decepticons. TC! Megs! You're next!

*runs away from the angry mob*


	10. Power Shifts

**AN:** Yay! More Cons!

* * *

Chapter 10: Power Shifts

Thundercracker onlined his optics as Skywarp poked him in the forehead in a steady rhythm. Thundercracker was leaning against the wall of the booth, his legs stretched out on the bench. Skywarp was leaning over the table and poking him repeatedly between the optics. Skywarp had a peculiar look on his faceplates, a cross between determined and bemused. Thundercracker's russet optics brightened to a warm crimson as he turned to glare at the most annoying seeker to ever online.

"What is it this time Skywarp?" He growled, flashing his fangs at his wingmate (not at all pleased to be jarred from recharge before he could really begin his sleep cycle). He was sick of Skywarp bugging him. Even with Thundercracker's patience, there was only so much the sonic seeker was going to put up with until he shot Skywarp through the spark. "If you want another cube, get off your rusted aft and go get it."

Skywarp's neutral face turned into an annoyed frown at Thundercracker's tone, but he stopped poking Thundercracker's face and sat up straight, his wings twitching nervously. Skywarp propped his elbows on the table, crossed his fingers together, and rested his mouth on his hands, optics averted, as though he was unsure of just how to voice his thoughts (which was freaky. Ask anyone). Thundercracker raised an optic ridge at his wingmate's uncharacteristically serious actions. He was once again reminded of how suddenly things had changed (_more like fallen apart,_ he thought bitterly) since Megatron and the others had disappeared.

Skywarp looked up at Thundercracker, his optics uncharacteristically narrow.

"TC," Skywarp began solemnly, optics not leaving Thundercracker's own. "Things are a mess."

Thundercracker snorted. Skywarp was really scaring him. There was something _fundamentally wrong_ about Skywarp being this serious. He attempted to keep face and not show his wingmate that he was getting to him. As much as he cared about the idiot, there were some things that he did not want Skywarp to know.

Like how scared he was.

"No slag." He retorted bitterly, and waved a hand around the Rec Room, indicating the other Decepticons talking, brawling, drinking, and generally being on edge.

Skywarp's face turned from politely serious to outright annoyed.

Thundercracker resisted the urge to squirm, but averted his gaze, wondering who was going to win the brawl in the middle of the room. He had a feeling that Quake might win, what with his berserker tendencies, but Needlenose was putting up a good fight for a fashion designer. That and he just grabbed the berserker tank and flew off, gunning his thrusters so fast, Quake was holding on for dear life.

Thundercracker internally calculated how many credits he just accumulated by betting on the jet. Until he remembered that Swindle was currently duking it out on the other side of the ship.

Oh well, he'd collect later.

…

How much did he owe that Combaticon again…?

Skywarp cleared his throat, forcing me to get back to the story and Thundercracker to look back at him.

"TC," he began. "We need to talk–"

"I'm going to get another cube." He said loudly. Thundercracker stood up abruptly and quickly slid out of the booth. "I'll be back in half a breem." And he stalked off across the Rec Room before Skywarp could stop him.

Now, get out your notebooks, sharpen those pencils, and welcome to Decepticon Architecture 101.

Shockwave probably got tired of the multitude of circles and ovals and other rounded shapes common to the Nemesis's interior. The entire room was once again geared mostly toward flyers and their preference for lots of vertical space, but with enough horizontal area for the grounded mechs and flat perches to rest on. It was one gigantic, vertically rectangular room, wide enough for privacy, more than long enough elbow room, and tall enough for flyers. Four giant skylights overhead let the weak sunlight filter through the ocean and trickle into the room, giving the dark purple-ish gray metal a light blue hue.

Booths of a slightly lighter purple gray were lined along all the walls on the ground. Almost all of them were currently filled by soldiers and officers, talking and eating and generally being the bunch of rowdy crazy slaggers we all know and love, or they would be if they weren't so agitated. One soldier (I believe his name is Detour, but don't quote me on that) couldn't sit still anymore. Hoping that a nice weightlessness would help him, he activated his anti-gravity generator and levitated up to one of this room's (rather spectacular, if Shockwave did say so himself) floating geometric figures.

Dozens of giant hollow cubes were suspended in midair by cables and poles, and quite a few were embedded in the walls. They were various shades of purple and gray, sizes, and floating height. Depending upon the size, there were either at minimum two or maximum six booths to a cube, with half the booths on the inside of the cube and the other half on the upper face of the cube. Perfectly flat platforms were also littered about the structure, for no other reason than to have some clear space.

Unfortunately, all of these floating structures prevented most of the light from the skylights from reaching the ground.

While the upper command had been working out a solution to this problem (because one too many mechs had crashed into something, whether poles or each other didn't matter), there was an incident involving a half-consumed energon cube, two datapads, a toy, Mixmaster's chemistry set, and a drunken bet that quickly put an end to the lack of light on the ground floor. The entire story would take up the next couple of chapters and I have to get to the point of this tale, so I won't fill you in on the details.

Bottom line: there were giant glowing blue crystals embedded into the walls and the undersides of the platforms and cubes. They weren't as strong as the industrial strength lights of the hallways and other rooms, but the Decepticons liked the ambience they gave to the room, one mech noting that it reminded him of Cybertron, and Megatron didn't mind using the energon they were saving by not lighting the Rec Room for other purposes.

That and the majority of the mechs outright _refused_ to touch them.

There are just some toxic elements that should not be handled by any creature, be they metallic or organic.

So there the crystals stayed, (finally) cooled after four million years.

Also, Mixmaster's chemistry set was _off limits_ to anyone but Mixmaster.

Megatron does not like his base blowing up.

No sir.

Thundercracker marched on, the various glowing crystals casting multiple shadows and giving his frowning face a harsh quality. Quite a few mechs gave him a wide berth. Quite a few more were whispering again. Their hissing voices filled the air like a swarm of flies, and just like a swarm of flies, annoyed Thundercracker to no end, turning his fear into anger.

Thundercracker stalked over to the line in front of the four cube dispensers in the center of the ground floor. All four were in a square formation, with a line of mechs at each one. Thundercracker stopped at the end of the line and waiting for the other mechs. He tapped his foot in agitation as he felt Skywarp's and at least ten other mechs' optics on him.

He had half a mind to push in front of Tracer to get all the optics off him, but restrained himself.

_Courtesy._ He reminded himself. _Don't cut the line and no one will cut you down._

He cycled air in an attempt to cool his heated systems and temper.

It wasn't working very well.

Thundercracker flashed his fangs at no one in particular and growled at the never-ending buzz of flying rumors, his immense patience wearing thin and his dermaplating crawling at the feeling of so many optics. Tracer (the poor mech) looked over his shoulder at the growl. Thundercracker glared down at him, optics a bright red. Tracer _meep_ed in a decidedly non-Decepticon manner and jumped into the air, zooming off for an empty booth near the ceiling.

Thundercracker watched him go. Normally, he'd be concerned that he'd actually managed to scare someone with just a look, but right now, he was too angry to bother caring.

Everyone else, however, was not too angry to bother caring. They watched Tracer go and looked back at a glowering Thundercracker. Those in their booths shifted away from the sonic seeker and those in front of him decided that they weren't really hungry and their friends just came under a terrible bout of malfunctioning intakes and they needed them to be there to comfort them.

Thundercracker was left alone with all four energon dispensers open. He sighed and stalked over to the dispenser in front of him. He pressed a button and a cube fell into his outstretched and waiting hand. He swirled the contents of the cube around with one hand, face falling into a tired resigned expression.

_This is crazy_, he thought. He gazed into the swirling energon. _Skywarp's right._ He admitted._ Things are a mess._

It had only been two days, now on day three. How could things have fallen apart so fast? The Decepticons were leaderless, their living leaders were captured and _female_, of all things, most of the soldiers were still doing minor CPU recovery, the Gestalts were killing each other on the other side of the Nemesis (and probably doing a vorn's worth of damage in the process), and now the soldiers and officers were jumpier than an orbital bounce.

_Fan-fragging-tastic. _He thought bitterly. He turned around and headed back to his booth in the far corner. He kept looking at his cube and thrusters, wings drooping tiredly. He didn't care that the others were looking at him curiously, one of them looking on with a power hungry look in his optics. _Primus, could it get any worse?_

His dermaplating crawled again, setting his fangs on edge. It wasn't from so many optics though. It was his instincts. They were screaming something about imminent danger. His wings hitched upward and he stopped dead, examining his immediate surroundings. The constant buzz of whispered rumors was gone. He straightened his back, his wings rising at little higher as his survival instincts initiated code red. His optics turned a blood red as he quickly looked to his left and right, without turning his head.

The soldiers and officers were all looking at him, optics wide and bright with anticipation. A couple mechs' optics flicked to something behind him then back to him.

_Slag_. Thundercracker cursed. _Back to the enemy…_

But who was it, what did they want, and why weren't they saying anything?

He was about to send a quick comm. message to Skywarp, but the message died when Thundercracker looked directly at his wingmate.

If robots could turn pale, Skywarp's face would be colorless.

His optics were a fearful light orange and his mouth was hanging open slightly. He was halfway out of his seat and looked like he was going to stand by Thundercracker, but something was stopping him.

Something Skywarp angrily wished was not stopping him, if his hitched wings, hunched shoulders, and shaking frame were any indication.

Skywarp never trembled in fear. Warbled, whined, refused to move, yes, but tremble? Never. Shaking was reserved for repressed laughter or anger.

So, whomever was behind him was dangerous enough to warrant Skywarp's protective instincts kicking in, but also dangerous enough to make him hesitate stepping in, lest he get himself killed. _Hmm…_

Thundercracker turned around slowly to face his opponent.

Motormaster.

_I hate my life._

"Thundercracker!" Motormaster said in a deep, audio bursting, booming voice. Said seeker groaned, and internally made a promise to personally kick Primus's aft if he met the god. He did not want to deal with this dramatic idiot now. He was tired, annoyed, angry, and most importantly of all, _he was ready to murder someone._

He didn't think Megatron would appreciate it if he killed the semi-truck, though.

"You are weak, Thundercracker!" Motormaster shouted, gesturing wildly, giant arms moving all over the place before pointing a finger at Thundercracker. "I find you unfit! You have failed the Decepticon cause and thus I challenge you to see who the _true_ king is!"

Thundercracker stared at him and groaned in a disbelieving tone, wings dropping from their agitated positions and his optics dimmed.

That was why he wanted to fight? A stupid _title_? He would understand Motormaster if he wanted to fight over energon or space or something substantial, but a made-up title that he gave himself? Primus frag it, if that idiot wanted to be 'King of the Road,' that was fine by Thundercracker!

But _what the pit _was that squared-headed idiot thinking!?

Thundercracker was a jet. A flyer. As in, (almost) _never touched the ground with wheels in his life._ Motormaster had nothing to gain by fighting someone whom everyone knew didn't _drive_. And since when did Thundercracker gain the title of 'King of the Road' anyway? If he'd known he had it, he would have been lording it over the truck for vorns. Also, how does a _truck_ lose to a _jet_ for a _ground based title_? Especially when that jet (usually) never touches the ground?

But Thundercracker didn't care about how he'd gained that title at the present moment. Motormaster had made a more serious claim against the seeker: That he had failed the cause. Normally this would result in immediate deactivation by Megatron since his word was law and anything he said went, but since it was Motormaster this time, he actually had to back it up. Thundercracker couldn't recall anything he'd done recently that would have anyone accusing him of a thing. Also, the highest officers had to review the claim, plus the evidence and testimonies of the parties involved, and then issue a sentence since Megatron wasn't here. As said highest officers were currently ripping each other's plating off in the Office section, no one could theoretically touch Thundercracker even if he had somehow committed a crime, thus Motormaster was just saying that as an excuse to fight him.

Still, what really mattered was that he had a hot-tempered, tyrannical slagger "challenging" him (which was ridiculously formal for a Rec Room brawl) to a fight and attempting to legitimize his status as higher than Thundercracker's, for some unfathomable reason. Thundercracker balled his hands into fists, but kept his arms at his sides, his wings in a neutral position. and attempted to get some sense out of the truck.

"Why do you want to fight me? I haven't done anything to you. How am I unfit and how have I failed?" He said calmly, hoping that Motormaster would reason to the same conclusion anyone with two bytes of processing power could see: that there was no way a jet could have the title of 'King of the Road,' especially since he was already 'unfit' by not having a ground based alt mode. He would also realize that Thundercracker had not done anything to betray or undermine the Decepticon cause in any way, shape, or form since he first joined. Thus Motormaster would realize his mistake, apologize in his own way (which means not at all) and then go back to bragging about how he'd smash Prime's face into the dirt when (Motormaster insisted on _when_ not _if_) he runs him off the road.

Thundercracker partially knew it wasn't going to work, but he'd made a point of hoping anyway.

"You know well how!" Motormaster shouted, loud enough so that his voice echoed up to the highest booths. Mechs from the upper levels looked down at the growing circle of mechs, half excitedly, half concerned, all interested. Motormaster gestured dramatically around the Rec Room at the assembled Decepticons. Thundercracker was not pleased to see himself and Motormaster in the middle of what was essentially a large circular arena. The silence that was in the room before was replaced with loud mutterings as Motormaster said, "You've let things get as bad as they are with your weakness and hesitation! I find you unfit and the power should belong to me! Fight me for it or give it up!"

Thundercracker did as any sane mech that had watched too many human films and picked up on their mannerisms did and facepalmed.

He couldn't help it. Really, he couldn't.

"I'm not going to fight you, Motormaster." Thundercracker growled angrily, thoroughly convinced now that Motormaster was indeed insane. Thundercracker had not done anything! How was it his fault Megatron and Starscream were femmes? How was it his fault that Soundwave was dead? How was it his fault that Hook and Onslaught were destroying each other? How was it his fault that the Decepticons were so on edge? How was it his fault that the Earthbound Decepticons were leaderless?

_How the frag was it his fault!?_

He made calming motions with his hands, hoping (but not really believing) that he could get Motormaster to back off before Thundercracker's anger took over and he did something stupid. Like murdering the leader of a gestalt thus removing a valuable weapon from the Decepticon army and getting himself slagged for it later when Megatron came back. Thundercracker liked his plating where it was, frag you very much.

A lot of the other mechs were staring, some concernedly, others openly sneering, and he noticed credits changing hands. Whispers moved behind dark hands from vocalizer to audio, comm. channels flooded with chatter, if some of the blank stares were anything to go by. Some of them were even _snarling_ at him. Not one did anything other than watch Thundercracker attempt to defuse the situation.

_Frag you all._ He though acidly.

"You're tired and insane, and we're all on edge." He said calmly, gesturing to the gathered mechs, hoping the truck would get the fragging hint. Noting that Motormaster did not respond beyond a widening fang filled grin, he dropped the nice act immediately. "Go get a cube and sit down," he growled.

There was a moment's pause as everyone waited to see what Motormaster would do next.

My readers are smart enough to guess correctly.

"HA!" Motormaster shouted triumphantly, breaking the silence in an instant, pointing dramatically at Thundercracker and motioning to the other soldiers. He swept his arms wide open and panned his open chest to the crowd, as though Thundercracker had just proved his point beyond a shadow of a doubt. "See! What did I tell you?" He shouted happily. "He's too _scared_ and _weak_ to fight! He doesn't deserve it!"

Murmurs of agreement from quite a few of the soldiers resounded throughout the very still and very quiet Rec Room and others shuffled about nervously. Thundercracker bristled in indignation, optics flashing one shade of red brighter than russet, especially since some of those who murmured their agreement _were jets_. Why the frag were they agreeing with the insane truck? Everyone should have known that Thundercracker hadn't failed the cause or at least not any more than any of them, and that stupid 'King of the Road' bullslag wasn't even worth mentioning! And besides, this so called leadership of Motormaster's could be dealt with when Megatron got back, if Motormaster even had the ball bearings to take Megatron head on.

Other murmurs of dissatisfaction and contained anger followed with optics narrowing among the ranks. Some directed at Thundercracker, others at Motormaster, and still others at their fellows. Thundercracker flashed his fangs, optics a bright red, growled audibly, and sent each of the mechs snarling at him a glare reminiscent of Megatron in a bad mood.

They immediately shut up and tried to surreptitiously hide behind some of their neighbors. Several of the nearby mechs sneered at their cowardly actions.

Thundercracker was quite sick of everyone's attitude and their generally useless bickering and muttering. None of this was his fault and he certainly wasn't the mech to deal with this slag! He did not need Motormaster fighting him for no good reason over a title or a crime he didn't fragging earn or do. He did not need the gestalts killing each other and destroying half the Nemesis while they were at it just because both were too stubborn to compromise. He did not need the constant whispering and questioning optics that tracked his every movement. He did not need to have the Decepticons running around aimlessly.

And he did not need _Misfire_ of all mechs defending him, _dammit_!

The smaller, ground Decepticon stood in front of Thundercracker, arms bent in a defensive stance, but his shaking frame and too bright, almost orange-pink optics betrayed his obvious terror at the larger, eighteen-wheeled, self-proclaimed (and apparently, former) King of the Road. The red mech's legs were quaking so badly, it looked like the mech would fall over and crawl away in terror.

"Y-You're n-n-not at-t-tacking T-Thundercracker w-while I'm here!" He said tremblingly, frame shaking so much, his vocalizer was glitching. He glared at Motormaster and his pathetic voice somehow grew stronger as he continued. "H-he's in charge, a-and you know it!"

Thundercracker was about to tell Misfire just what the Pit was he doing, that he should let Thundercracker deal with Motormaster, that he had no reason to defend him, especially since Thundercracker could do a hell of a better job defending himself (thank you very much!) and that Misfire couldn't hit the broad side of Devastator and thus was useless in any fight, and he was _not in charge, fraggit!_

But before Thundercracker could so much as open his mouth, Motormaster's booming, condescending laughter resounded throughout the very still Rec Room. For some reason, Motormaster's laughter made Thundercracker forget his anger at Misfire and immediately side with him and his crazy, half-suicidal claims (despite the fact that they were all very, very wrong, yes they were Thundercracker insisted).

"You really think you can stand up to me!?" Motormaster laughed at Misfire's still terrified, but somehow resolute face, and then turned to Thundercracker, sneering. "Are you so weak that you send this _runt_–" his arm shot out faster than most would think the large truck was capable of, and grabbed Misfire by the throat, hoisting him up. Misfire's optics widened in sheer terror and his vocalizer whined as Motormaster squeezed it tightly "– to fight your battles for you!?"

Thundercracker immediately tensed, somehow caring about the fate of the red (_stupid stupid idiotic why the frag did you do that you moronic glitching sorry excuse for a_) mech. He paused, not wanting to put Misfire in any more danger or provoke the large truck and making the situation worse.

Motormaster paused, hand still tight around Misfire's throat, the red mech flailing feebly in his grip. Motormaster's tiny CPU seeming to be working in overdrive as he analyzed the situation. His optics narrowed and one could almost see the cogs turning in the giant mech's head. He growled, his face suddenly darkening, and flashed a fang as he seemed to decide something.

"… I don't know whether you're really that weak or you're insulting me!" He roared. He shook Misfire like a ragdoll. The red jet cried out in surprise and pain. Motormaster's brownish optics brightened to a fiery orange and he barred his fangs fully.

"HOW DARE YOU THINK THAT THIS RUNT COULD EVER BEAT ME!" He roared, throwing Misfire over Thundercracker's head. Thundercracker watched Misfire sail through the air. He was halfway to jumping and catching Misfire, but Skywarp beat him to it. The teleporting seeker shot forward before Thundercracker had even finished his thought, caught the small mech before he slammed into a wall, and flew back– not to their shared booth, as Thundercracker thought he would, but to a group of mechs on one half of the room. The teleporting seeker deposited his load and Misfire cycled air rapidly as his stressed systems recovered, muttering his thanks. Skywarp, ignoring him now that he was safe, turned his expressionless face to Thundercracker. Thundercracker's internal comm. beeped quietly as it received a message from the purple jet.

_:Show him his place.:_

Thundercracker could hear Skywarp's snarl in the message.

Slag was really hitting the turbines if _Skywarp_ was _snarling_.

Thundercracker thought about how to effectively and quickly end the fight, without killing the Stunticon because Megatron would not be pleased with him if he saw Thundercracker hanging Motormaster's corpse on his wall.

No sir.

If Motormaster wasn't thoroughly beaten, he'd come back to harass him and Skywarp. He might even go after Misfire in a twisted sense of revenge. Not that Thundercracker really cared how Misfire dealt with his idiotic actions (cause everything that mech did was entirely his own fault), but knowing that he at least tried to help him was... a nice feeling that Thundercracker couldn't really name. Motormaster's wounded pride would drive him to kill them if given the chance, but not if he was beaten.

And Thundercracker _could_ beat Motormaster.

It might not be easy, he acknowledged, but he could do it. Motormaster would think twice if he lost and was humiliated for it. While it might make him more angry, losing twice would remove any respect or fear Motormaster had gathered among the ranks and his so-called 'challenge' would be shown for the hot exhaust fume it was. Motormaster would have to leave them alone to save face.

Thus he could take his anger out on the giant truck, make it so that no one would bother him again, and do so in such a way that would humiliate the truck so that no one could accuse him of stealing titles or crimes he didn't commit.

He imperceptibly nodded his head in Skywarp's direction, his optics two shades brighter than russet.

Skywarp's face burst into a malicious, eager, twisted, wicked grin, all sharp teeth and full of pride. His optics were narrowed in that peculiar way that said he would enjoy all the bloodshed to come.

…Skywarp's reaction made Thundercracker extremely uncomfortable. He got the distinct feeling he was deny- missing something obvious.

Motormaster's booming voice brought Thundercracker's attention and anger back to his opponent. "FIGHT ME, THUNDERCRACKER," Motormaster roared, reading himself into a battle stance, his face just as malicious as Skywarp's. "AND THEN WE'LL SEE WHO'S THE MOST POWERFUL AND DESERVES TO LEAD!"

Thundercracker's wings hitched higher and he outright snarled at Motormaster, all of his fangs flashing and his harmonics roaring as anger-induced power brought them online. Thundercracker might not actually use it in such close proximity to the other non-combatants, but if they got in his way that was their fragging fault. Thundercracker wasn't certain where Motormaster had made the connection between 'King of the Road,' 'failed the cause', 'power' and 'leadership,' but he didn't care anymore. The fourth could deal with that insubordination later or Megatron could whip the Stunticon back into submission when he got back. Either way, the only thing Thundercracker cared about was making sure that the Stunticon would leave him and his alone. His optics brightened to blood red and he readied his own battle stance, harmonics humming and rifles primed.

Motormaster (and I will applaud him for this) didn't flinch, though his stance wasn't as sure anymore.

With a battle cry, Motormaster lunged, drawing his giant broadsword out of its subspace pocket, aiming rather blatantly for Thundercracker's neck. Thundercracker effortlessly ducked below the blow and brought his arm's rifle up to Motormaster's left shoulder and fired point blank into the joint. Motormaster roared and staggered backward, his sword arm swinging in wide, crazed arcs in front of him. Thundercracker kicked his thrusters and rocketed backwards, out of the broadsword's reach. Motormaster growled as his blackened shoulder smoked.

Thundercracker frowned, fangs barred. He was sure that that shot would have at least incapacitated the crazed semi's arm, but it only looked like minor damage from where he was standing. He scaled up the power to his rifles, but set it just below 'vaporize'.

Despite what he really, _really_ wanted, Thundercracker couldn't kill Motormaster. Megatron hated infighting when it resulted in the death of one of his soldiers. Earlier in the war it was a way to weed out the weak and thus highly applauded for the winner. However, as supplies ran low and men became scarce, such practices became frowned upon when done between members of equal rank.

No one would help if you pissed off a higher ranking Decepticon.

No one is that stupid.

Motormaster charged again, swinging the broadsword in a more controlled arc this time, aiming for Thundercracker's middle. Thundercracker jumped back again to avoid the swing and brought his right rifle up and aimed for Motormaster's face. He shot just as Motormaster twisted his arm, changed the arc, and thrust forward with the sword.

The rifle's recoil pushed Thundercracker left just enough so that the sword sliced through his side, severing several minor energon lines and through a lower segment of his right wing. Thundercracker roared with pain as his wing sensors screeched. Motormaster responded in kind, his roars drowning out Thundercracker's as he gripped his smoking face. Thundercracker stumbled but regained his footing and brought up his rifle for a second shot to knock the mech offline.

His face met the floor and had a polite conversation with it as Drag Strip slammed into his back and started pummeling his spinal relay and scratching his wings, leaving gashes all over the metal. Thundercracker roared again and released a sonic boom from his harmonics (frag what happened to the others, _there was someone on his back_) that shook the Stunticon to his core and eased him off enough that Thundercracker bucked under him. The seeker twisted his torso and swung his elbow back into Drag Strip's chest, hurling him to the floor. Thundercracker scrambled to his feet, but not before being blindsided by Wildrider.

The two of them tumbled head over heels, Wildrider's claws raking across Thundercracker's cockpit and armor, fangs about to bear down on Thundercracker's exposed neck wires. Several of the surrounding mechs jumped out of the way as the two of them rolled past. Thundercracker released another sonic boom, disorienting the Stunticon enough to get his leg under Wildrider's belly. He activated his thruster and Wildrider was launched into the bottom of one of the higher booths.

The crazed Stunticon screamed as he was stabbed in the back by the protruding crystals hanging underneath it before he slammed into the ground.

Thundercracker, in the meantime, rolled away and scrambled to his feet just as Motormaster stabbed his sword into the very spot Thundercracker's spark chamber had just been occupying. He brought up both rifles and shot Motormaster in the chest area.

Or he would have if Breakdown and Dead End hadn't decided that supporting Motormaster was better for both of them in the long (well, longer than short) term.

They both slammed into the cerulean seeker, landing in a heap, Thundercracker's wings scrapping painfully across the floor. Thundercracker immediately shut off all pain receptors and ignored all damage reports from his wing joints. He did not need that much distraction now.

Breakdown and Dead End punched every inch of Thundercracker they could reach. Thundercracker felt his cockpit shatter under one particularly strong punch from Dead End. Motormaster ran over, optics crazed, face dark and snarling, swinging his sword in a downward arc. Dead End and Breakdown jumped to opposite sides just as the blade passed between them for the downed seeker.

Two shots rang out, one hitting Motormaster's wrist, knocking his sword out of his hand, the other hit his head. The Stunticon leader cried out and fell to the side. Thundercracker scrambled to his feet, holding the shards of his damaged cockpit. He looked into the crowd of watching mechs to see Whisper's smoking rifle pointed at Motormaster.

_The frag-?_ Thundercracker thought.

He didn't get to finish that thought as the Air Strike Patrol's leader growled and launched himself past Thundercracker at Dead End and Breakdown. The two Stunticons squawked as the jet barreled into them, all claws and fists. Tailwind was right behind his leader, claws tearing into the two Stunticons easily. They each grabbed a surprised car and took off to the ceiling, Dead End and Breakdown both swearing and panicking loudly.

Thundercracker didn't have time to ponder why the frag the Air Strike Patrol was helping him when Skystalker slammed into him this time, his wheel's spinning so fast he left skid marks on the polished floor. Thundercracker and Skystalker both skidded across the floor and Thundercracker's head slammed into the wall near the door. Thundercracker's vision became filled with static as Skystalker transformed quickly. He was about to pull his gun out of subspace when a dark hand grabbed the mech by the neck and hurled him across the room. Thundercracker saw Groundhog and Motorhead ready and waiting to catch the unfortunate mech as he landed.

Thundercracker shook his head and looked up to see Barricade offering him a hand. Not caring as to why the race car was helping him at the moment, he grabbed his hand and was hauled to his feet, as Barricade said quickly, "Get up, you stupid aft and finish that Primus-fragged truck o-!"

Barricade didn't get to finish his statement as Wildrider, back structure still bleeding from multiple puncture wounds, grabbed Barricade's neck and flipped the racer over his head to smash him into the ground. Barricade didn't move. Wildrider jumped upon the downed car and brought both fists up to finish him off.

Thundercracker roared in anger and raised his rifle and shot the crazed Stunticon in the back just as he was about to bring his fists down on Barricade's head. The Stunticon screamed and was thrown off the downed Decepticon by the force of the blast.

Thundercracker quickly got to his feet, ignoring the dent in the back of his helm, and ran over to Barricade. The smaller car moaned and propped up on his elbows. Thundercracker wasted no time and grabbed the smaller car's arm and helped him to his feet. Barricade stumbled once and then straightened, shaking his head to clear it.

"Thanks." Barricade murmured to Thundercracker, imperceptibly _bowing_ his head in the seeker's direction, before turning his back to Thundercracker to give a bleeding and moaning Wildrider a piece of his mind.

Thundercracker had no time to think on Barricade's odd behavior before a roar from Motormaster preceded the semi's arrival. Thundercracker gunned his engines and shot into air as Motormaster ran into the wall behind Thundercracker at top speed. Kicking his anti-gravity generator online, Thundercracker hung in the air and looked at the insanity of the Rec Room.

Everyone, and I mean _everyone_, was fighting. Mechs who had only a breem before had been chatting agitatedly with one another were now tearing at each other's throats. Shots rang out every once in a while, hitting anyone nearby, the booths, or the walls.

Skywarp was nowhere to be see, but from the many _Skeeruuuuu-FONK_ sounds, he wasn't taking this situation lying down. Quake and Needlenose were both tearing into the Sports Car Patrol unit, their earlier fight forgotten. Cars fought jets, jets fought jets, tanks fought cars, tank fought tank– you name the combination, they were fighting. Energon sprinkled the walls and floor and scorch marks marred almost every surface.

"COWARD!" Motormaster roared from below. Thundercracker (shaken from his thoughts) looked down and used his thruster to dodge the hail of plasma bolts from Motormaster's pistol. Motormaster swung his sword in the air in Thundercracker's general direction, pointing the tip at Thundercracker's spark. "WHAT SLAGGERS THOUGHT YOU WERE WORTHY OF LEADING!? GET DOWN HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MECH!" He roared.

Having no intention of doing any such thing, Thundercracker shot Motormaster three times with his rifles before he was (once again) slammed into the wall over the doorway, this time by Gutcrucher. They both slid down the wall before Gutcrucher turned his anti-gravity generator on.

Gutcrucher's arms were crossed and pushed into Thundercracker's neck and shoulders. Thundercracker only had time to level a glare and open his mouth to bite the offending Decepticon's faceplates off when Spinister shot Gutcrucher in the head. Gutcrucher screamed in pain as he was thrown to the side. Spinister zoomed past the freed seeker, shouting curses at the other jet.

Thundercracker hung in the air for two seconds and decided he was getting sick of this bullslag.

He had no time to think about his situation, however, as he felt a huge hand grab onto his leg and attempt to make him have a painful meeting with the ground.

Stop being distracted! Thundercracker shouted at himself as the ground came up to meet him. He saw Motormaster's wickedly smug and vicious grin before face met floor. He braced himself as his entire body impacted. Thundercracker's noseridge caved inward at the force of the impact. He groaned in pain as Motormaster laughed triumphantly. Motormaster dragged Thundercracker back and swung the seeker up high to slam him into the floor again.

Idiot.

Thundercracker took the opportunity to gun his thrusters while simultaneously shooting multiple laser blasts into Motormaster's head and shoulders. The combination of plasma and superheated air caused the giant semi to release Thundercracker's leg with a loud roar of pain. Thundercracker zoomed ceiling-ward.

"YOU FRAGGER!" Motormaster screamed. Thundercracker ignored him and put his back to one of the hanging square booths and hung in the air, doing quick diagnostic on himself to assess his damages.

Thundercracker never got that report because he heard Motormaster give the same order that had almost turned him and the other officers into metal pancakes 8 hours before.

"STUNTICONS, COMBINE."

The sound of mechs transforming resounded throughout the space, laughter from Wildrider (how the frag was that moron still functioning!?) turning into the pained roar of Menasor as the gestalt stood up to his full and considerable height. Menasor's crazed bright red optics were now level with Thundercracker's.

_I hate my life._

Thundercracker jumped to the side as Menasor's hand shot out and crushed the square booth he had been hanging on. Thundercracker flew around the appendage, shooting at exposed joints and wires. Not that there were many, but he tried before he flew over Menasor's shoulder toward more open spaces. Menasor roared again, not in pain, but in frustration as he attempted to swat the offending blue jet. Menasor turned and stomped after the blue jet, crushing anything underneath his large peds.

All the mechs fighting on the ground kicked their anti-gravity generators online as a giant foot headed right for their faces. They scattered into the upper part of the Rec Room like so many insects when a human steps through grass.

Thundercracker ignored the other mechs as he flew behind the hanging squares as he looked for weak points. He primed his rifle, set it to 'vaporize' (not that it was going to do much more than hurt the fragging huge mech and he knew it), and flew past the arm that was about to smash him into the wall. He shot at Menasor's elbow joint and flew around Menasor's back, firing to distract him. Several other mechs flew up next to Thundercracker and zoomed around Menasor's head and shooting at his optics and joints.

And yes, ground units _can_ fly that well.

What kind of Decepticons do you take them for?

Menasor stomped on the ground destroying several booths, roaring and swatting at the Decepticons flying about his head. None of them had done much damage beyond cosmetic burns and some scratches to the giant gestalt.

Thundercracker thought fast. _Okay. Menasor in the Rec Room. Giant. Angry. Aiming for you. Others helping. Sort of._

He didn't have much time for any other thoughts as Menasor chose that moment to lunge for Thundercracker, completely ignoring the other Decepticons shooting him and attempting to snatch the sonic seeker out of the air. Thundercracker dodged expertly, flew right up to Menasor's angry face, aimed for the gestalt's optics, and fired. Thundercracker couldn't have missed at that range if he had tried. The giant mech roared as his optics smoked, blinded by light and searing heat. Thundercracker dropped as Menasor brought his hands up to his face in an attempt to protect his burning optics. He stumbled backwards and smashed several booths connected to the left wall, roaring the entire time.

The mechs helping Thundercracker whooped and high fived each other in celebration, shouting something about how Thundercracker was awesome and they were right all along. Their joy was cut short when several Decepticons flew into them and started tearing at their vital parts and they went back to fighting (because no fight is finished until the payback's done).

Thundercracker resolutely ignored them all, more focused on the biggest issue in the room. Menasor was injured but not down and he couldn't get another shot off at the giant mech's optics while his hands were protecting them. He brought his rifle up one more time and looked for a target that would incapacitate Menasor as quickly as possible.

That's when things went to the pit.

Again.

The left wall exploded behind Menasor as Devastator flew through it.

Thundercracker gasped and dived sideways and the fighting Decepticons scattered again as Devastator landed and skidded the length of the Rec Room, roaring and snarling and yelling at the top of his vocal processor.

Bruticus then decided to join the party as he stepped through the massive hole in the wall.

Thundercracker noticed the long but direct tunnel through to the War Room, which happened to be on the same level as the Rec Room.

Thundercracker gaped at the devastation.

He was _not_ going to be the one cleaning this slag up.

Bruticus, completely ignoring the floating Decepticons and already partially destroyed Rec Room, began to run toward Devastator, but he only managed two steps before a giant hand shot out from the rubble underneath him and grabbed his ankle. The Combaticon gestalt fell as Menasor rose up from the rubble, roaring at the other.

He dragged Bruticus towards him and then pounced on the Combaticon gestalt's back and began to punch the back of giant mech's helm inward. Bruticus twisted his right arm backwards and spun the helicopter blades into Menasor's side. Menasor roared again in pain and rolled off Bruticus, clutching at the long cut running from the back of his neck to the front of his right hip. Bruticus got to his feet, moved to a battle stance and glared at Menasor, who roared and snarled like an animal in kind. The Combaticon and the Stunticon gestalts would have resumed wrestling if Bruticus hadn't noticed Devastator lunge for him from the side. Bruticus ducked and Devastator went right through the hole he'd just sailed through.

A stray plasma shot whizzed past Thundercracker's head, snatching his attention from the gestalts, and he turned to see every Decepticon in the air _still_ fighting one another. In the jet versus ground battles, the jets had the advantage of natural air superiority and maneuverability, but the ground based mechs were holding their own quite well.

The Autobot front liners were not the only ones well versed in Jet Judo.

Barricade versus Skystalker, Ruckus versus Crankcase, Whisper versus Blackjack versus Skyhopper versus Roller Force versus just about every single other Decepticon. Thundercracker saw Skywarp teleporting around and taking potshots at various mechs, holding the cassettes in his arms. How in the world they weren't already dead Thundercracker didn't know nor had he noticed when Skywarp had picked them up.

Thundercracker had a two second warning in the form of a screech as Talon dropped from above him to knock the sonic seeker out of the air.

Thundercracker had had enough of this bullslag.

He swerved left and grabbed the unfortunate jet by the throat as he flew past and swung him around, planting his feet directly on the other's back. He fired his thrusters into Talon's back, which melted under such close contact. Talon screamed and Thundercracker slammed his fist into the back of the mech's helm and let gravity take care of the rest. The jet crashed unceremoniously into a table on one of the upper floating cubes, unconscious.

Falcon, taking full advantage of Thundercracker's distraction, roared, optics flashing, as he gunned for Thundercracker's throat from behind. Thundercracker, already spinning in the air, set his harmonics to charge as much as they could, and aimed for Falcon's chassis, but didn't get the shot off.

Blitzwing saved the day by unceremoniously flying into Falcon as the tank sailed through the air, quickly followed by Dirge, Ramjet, and Thrust, all shouting and roaring obscenities at each other.

It was at this moment that Bruticus had the brilliant idea to gain a tactical advantage over the other two gestalts and start climbing the walls. Menasor also thought this was a good idea and grabbed Bruticus's ankles to drag him back to the floor to pummel him into oblivion. Devastator didn't particularly mind the idea as he charged through the hole in the wall and knocked all three of them into the opposite wall and the display consol, destroying the equipment and sending an electrical surge throughout the Rec Room's walls, blowing off panels and exposing the ship's inner workings, some of which were smoking and sparking dangerously.

None of the fighting Decepticons gave a flying frag what was going on around them.

Thundercracker was done.

"ENOUGH!" He shouted as loudly as he could. "STOP FIGHTING YOU MORONIC PILES OF SLAG! STOP! _STOP!_"

No one listened.

No one.

Except Skywarp.

The teleporting seeker noticed his best friend shaking and growling and his optics had turned a bright orange red. His optics widened in fear and he wasted no time.

Skywarp switched his audios off, tightened his grip on the unconscious cassettes in his arms, dived into a secluded booth near the ceiling, hid under the table, and braced himself and them for what Thundercracker had been threatening to do since this whole idiotic tale began.

He snapped.

Thundercracker finally released the pent up energy in his harmonics in one gigantic, powerful, and extremely loud _BOOM!_

* * *

Sparkplug Witwicky flopped down in his armchair, a wineglass in one hand and TV remote in the other. He sighed and got comfortable, well pleased with the work he and his son had done to help their extraterrestrial friends. He flicked the television on to catch the last news reports before bed.

"_Good evening. This is Sophia Turner, with Channel 23 and breaking news."_ The anchorwoman said professionally and calmly, contrasting the chaos in the video behind her. Images of people boarding up shops, putting out sandbags, and packing for what looked like a permanent move flashed across the screen. Sparkplug took a quick sip of his wine and watched as a multitude of people got the hell out of Dodge.

Or in this case, San Francisco.

"_An earthquake, with 5.3 on the Richter scale and an epicenter only a few hundred miles off the northern coast of California occurred just an hour ago._" The newscaster reported._ "Geologists are stumped as to what caused the earthquake, as there are no tectonic plates in the area nor has there been any seismic activity in that region of ocean before. No tsunamis have yet been reported, but people are still evacuating coastal cities and towns. All residents along the West Coast are advised to take shelter farther inland and to prepare for any aftershocks…"_

* * *

**Ending AN:** This is why I love the Cons.

No, this fic is not dead. I've said this multiple times. I had to rethink a couple things that were in GBDS before. I have one draft that's pretty far along in the story, but it has been torn apart and rewritten into the monster you see before you. Also, I had to get back into the habit of writing Decepticons and figure out how to transition from one scene to the next. It's not easy, especially since there are some themes I'd like to keep running, but require some major revision. My headcanon on characterization and events has changed, but I'm trying to keep to the tried and true GBDS style and my original ideas.

Much love to my readers who are kind enough to put up with me, my lack of beta, my terrible update schedule.

Join us next time for Chapter 11 of GBDS: Accursed Medical Transports

_PS._ There are no original characters in this fic. Believe it or not, all the Decepticons mentioned are canon. Not that they were _supposed_ to be there. Crazy Cons have a habit of slipping into places they're not supposed to. *glare* Yes, Misfire. I'm looking at you.


End file.
